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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26544166">Will You Be My Valentine?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanoftheknight/pseuds/fanoftheknight'>fanoftheknight</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rileypotter17/pseuds/rileypotter17'>rileypotter17</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Humour, Jorah spoon-feeding his Khaleesi, Sexy Times, dining alone sucks, modern day AU, two lonely beans sitting in a restaurant, valentines day</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:22:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>22,900</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26544166</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanoftheknight/pseuds/fanoftheknight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rileypotter17/pseuds/rileypotter17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They were just two lonely people sitting in a restaurant on the most romantic day of the year. Broken-hearted Jorah Mormont catches the eye of the only other diner eating alone. </p><p>Could a chance meeting lead to something much more?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>151</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>112</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Lonely Hearts Club</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a project that the awesome RileyPotter and I have been working on for a while and is a two-hander whereby each of us writes a Jorah/Daenerys POV (I'll leave it up to you to guess who is writing each POV...)</p><p>I am so grateful for RileyPotter agreeing to work on this project with me and bringing her awesome writing skills to this story - it's been such a joy to work with her!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Daenerys:</b>
</p><p>That fucking bastard, how could he?</p><p>God, I wanted to strangle that stupid idiot Jon Snow.</p><p>Whatever happened to, ‘you’re my queen’?</p><p>I thought his little doe eyes were cute at first and I’ll admit that, for a while, we had some fun together…when he wasn’t moping around with his lip scraping the floor, that was.</p><p>He was cute, in a dark and handsome kind of way, and it was enough for me to forgive his lack of height. I usually only dated men taller than me, loving the feeling of being wrapped up in the strong arms of a bear of a man.</p><p>I’d met Jon at a local bar, and I should have seen the warning signs when he told me that he was on a night out with his sisters.</p><p>What kind of man goes clubbing with his sisters?</p><p>He didn’t say much, which was a bonus as usually what came out of his mouth was mopey ponderings about his lot in life and how the weight of destiny lay heavily on his shoulders.</p><p>No, I was much fonder of him when he used his mouth for things other than talking…</p><p>As much as it pains me to say it, he was definitely good with his mouth, which was a good thing as his dick was by far the smallest I’d ever seen.</p><p>He dumped me. He fucking dumped me on Valentine’s Day!</p><p>Of all the days of the year he could have chosen, he picked the one that would cause the maximum amount of carnage, even though he claimed it was just poor timing.</p><p>“Love is the death of duty,” he told me before packing his bags and leaving my apartment after plunging that dagger straight into my heart.</p><p>I cried for a while, more out of anger than hurt. I didn’t take well to people telling me what I could and couldn’t have. If anyone was going to call time on the relationship, it should have been me. </p><p>I ruled this relationship, not him.</p><p>And to think that I’d forked out for a table at the city’s best restaurant tonight. Did Jon know how hard it was to get a seat there, let alone an actual fucking table?</p><p>Of course he didn’t, because he knows absolutely fucking nothing.</p><p>The idiot.</p><p>Well, bollocks to it. I’d spent enough money reserving the table and I was damned if I was going to let it go to waste.</p><p>I put on my warpaint and my sexy blue dress, braiding my hair in an effort to make me feel better. No one was going to see this queen shed a tear for the man who had just dumped her. Jon’s rejection stung but I wasn’t going to let anyone see that, especially him.</p><p>As I waited for the train that would take me to the bustling city centre, my mind ran through all the possible ways that I could get my revenge on Jon, many of which revolved around him dying an excruciatingly painful death.</p><p>Oh, how easily I could shove him in the back and into the path of an oncoming train…</p><p>No, that kind of death would be too quick and simple. When people betrayed me, I wanted to burn them where they stood.</p><p>Jon used to tell me that I had a fearful temper, that I would fly off the handle at the smallest things. Well, he was a small thing who constantly irritated me. What I had once found endearing I now found tiresome and his pretty little mouth could only make up for things for so long.</p><p>And don’t get me started on his uppity bitch of a sister, Sansa. One look from her and Jon would bend over backwards to please her. All she would have to do was click her fingers and Jon would come running like the housetrained little wolf that he was.</p><p>“Family is everything to me,” he used to tell me, but what happened to me being part of that family? He never once stuck up for me when his sisters treated me like some weird auntie, with their eyes full of contempt and mistrust. </p><p>The way they looked at me made me feel dirty and weird, as if it was somehow wrong for Jon and I to be dating. Why couldn’t they just mind their own business and keep their noses out of mine?</p><p>But it had been those fucking sisters that demanded Jon call our relationship off, telling him that they needed him to come home and help them rebuild their home that had been damaged by the harsh and cold winter we’d just lived through.</p><p>Jon wanted me to travel back to his home in the north, to sit in a crappy hotel room like a dutiful little housewife while he ran around and played hero.</p><p>I refused to budge. There was no way I was going to separate myself from the friends and the life I’d made for myself. If he ever truly loved me, Jon would have seen that he was asking me for the impossible.</p><p>And so what had he done?</p><p>Stuck between me and his sisters, he chose to return home, telling me that we’d grow to hate each other if we stayed together. Neither of us would be happy, no matter what we decided. Jon wouldn’t stay and I wouldn’t leave.</p><p>So he left me, but not before pulling one of those faces that he thought made him look stoic and heroic. </p><p>It just made him look constipated.</p><p>Truth be told, I was glad to be rid of him. No longer would I have to put up with his sullen silences and soppy eyes. And I would have all my haircare products back, too. Honestly, the way he preened and combed his hair was enough to be considered unhealthy for most women, let alone a man. Never again would I have to argue with him about who had used the last of the keratin serum.</p><p>He could buy his bloody own from now on.</p><p>As I stood outside the restaurant, I suddenly felt angry all over again as my eyes landed on the happy couples enjoying a meal with their partner. I would stick out like a sore thumb and I knew I would have to put up with everyone giving me sympathetic gazes as I sat at my table alone.</p><p>Oh, look at that poor girl sitting all by herself, what a shame…</p><p>I’d paid for this table and I was damn well going to make the most of it by ordering extravagant food and the most expensive bottle of wine I could find on the list. Getting blind drunk would make it easier to put up with the stares I was getting from everyone else.</p><p>Much like coming across the scene of an accident, I found it impossible not to look around the room at the people around me. I knew it wasn’t healthy and yet I couldn’t help myself either. All I saw was couple after couple, all looking soppily at one another. A couple at a table across the room caught me looking at them and so I averted my gaze, trying to look anywhere than at them.</p><p>And then my eyes found his.</p><p>I blinked several times, unsure of what I had just seen.</p><p>At the far end of the room sat a handsome older man who looked just as miserable as I did. The moment our eyes met, I felt something spark between us.</p><p>I grabbed the waiter’s attention and asked the most outrageous question.</p><p>The waiter quickly returned, nodding his head that the stranger in the corner had agreed to my request. Picking up my purse, I walked over to his table.</p><p>“Is this seat taken?” I asked…</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Jorah:</b>
</p><p>“Are you waiting on someone, sir?”</p><p>Oh – he was talking to me. </p><p>I looked up at the waiter and quickly shook my head before looking back down at the menu. I didn’t want to wait for a pitying glance, although I saw his hands quickly slide the second menu off the table. </p><p>Of course he had asked, it was Valentine’s Day after all. </p><p>How different things had been one year ago. I had booked the reservation back in November and even then it had been hard to get a decent time. But it was the most expensive restaurant in London and Lynesse had dropped so many hints about going. </p><p>So I took her. I ordered an expensive bottle of champagne to be brought to the table and in my best suit, I bent my knee and asked her to marry me. </p><p>I was so thrilled when she said yes – so elated the entire night – that before we left, I booked a table for the following Valentine’s Day – tonight. </p><p>I had completely forgotten until yesterday morning when they called to confirm. I didn’t exactly feel like telling the poor maître-de on the other end of the line that I needed to cancel because my new wife had run off with someone else.</p><p>I decided in that moment that I would go and close the chapter on Lynesse and I. One hellish year later. No matter how foolish I looked going alone.</p><p>I sighed as I looked over the menu again. I kept trying to read it, but my eyes just passed over the words and I didn’t take them in. Here I was nearing fifty having had two wives and now not a soul sitting across from me on a day reserved for romance and love.</p><p>My first wife was dead – and I wished her sweet soul peace every day – and I missed her – Gods I did. But we ran away together at eighteen, caught up in infatuation, with next to nothing in common to build a life together. Unfortunately, I never got to find out if we would have made it in the end.</p><p>And it took me almost thirty years to find love again in Lynesse. My entire family had spent so much time teasing me for remaining single and constantly asking when I was going to settle down. There had been a few girlfriends here and there, but nothing stuck. And I took full responsibility there – I know I’m a hard one to crack. I didn’t want anyone close to me to hurt and even more selfishly, I didn’t want to lose them without warning.</p><p>But despite my families’ pleas for me to couple-up, including the unbearable gruffness of my father and his ever-present disappointment in me, when I did introduce them to Lynesse, not a single one of them liked her.</p><p>But I was, I suppose, once again too infatuated to see sense. She was – still is, really – the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Charming and flirtatious and sexy. I fell for her nearly instantly. I fell so hard that it took only a few months for me to ask her to marry me and only a few more for the wedding to take place.</p><p>Everyone warned me. Even my best mate Jaime didn’t want to stand next to me as my best man on the day I made the biggest mistake of my life. </p><p>I was so blind.</p><p>And she was so good. So good at saying just the right things. So good at easing my insecurities and making promises. She had wrapped me around her finger so tightly that when things started to unravel, I didn’t notice the signs as I should have. </p><p>Getting married at my family church in Scotland wasn’t good enough. She wanted something posher – she wanted something expensive. </p><p>I made excuses for her and conceded to her every wish. After all – what did I know? My first wedding was an elopement, and it made my heart soar to see a smile on her face.</p><p>Our wedding day itself was beautiful, as were the weeks after. But that was where it ended. Her greed became more than just a woman who wanted the best for her wedding day. It became insatiable and tied to her love for me. Everything became an ultimatum and I started not to recognize the woman who was, a mere month before, my beautiful bride. </p><p>And then, only six weeks ago, I had to go back up to Scotland for business. Usually she came with and we stayed at my family cottage together. This time, she said she wasn’t feeling well and would rather not fly. I was gone all of a week and while away, I was determined to make things work between us. I am a stubborn bear of a man to the end, like my father in many ways, and I wasn’t going to let our relationship deteriorate without a fight.</p><p>I made a couples’ counselling appointment and planned to open a bottle of wine the night I returned and talk with her – like we did in the early days of our relationship. I was going to reiterate how much I loved her and ask her to figure it out with me.</p><p>But I never got the chance.</p><p>I came home to find that she was being unfaithful. The decision was made for me – it was over. </p><p>As far as I know – she’s with the new fucker. There wasn’t a hint of remorse in her voice when she told me and not a tear in her eye when she packed her things and left. </p><p>Thank God I have a good lawyer.  </p><p>I sighed and set the menu down. I would just order what I had last year and be done with it. I took a long drink of my whiskey and started to look around the restaurant for the first time since I had sat down.</p><p>A few young couples – but not too many – I didn’t know of many twenty-somethings that could afford this place. A few older couples, my age, who looked just as in love as they probably did years ago. I generally disliked jealousy and tried to avoid it at all costs – but whiskey and nostalgia are a mix that can make anyone covet what they no longer have. </p><p>And then I saw her, and my heart dropped into my stomach. I thought it was a cruel joke. I looked around madly and then back at her to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. But the woman just smiled.</p><p>She was sitting at a table not far away, also alone, and at a cursory glance she had looked so much like Lynesse that I panicked.</p><p>But it wasn’t her – it was a woman far more beautiful, if that were even possible, and she was smiling at me.</p><p>I returned her a small smile and a polite nod and then focused back on my drink. I’m not sure why we locked eyes, but I felt the tips of my ears burn hot.</p><p>“Sir…”</p><p>I looked up at the waiter, “Yes, I’ll have the risotto with shrimp, please…”</p><p>“Pardon, sir, the young lady over there has asked if she might join you?”</p><p>I blinked and followed his gesture towards the table where she was sitting, still smiling.</p><p>My heart rammed against my rib cage as I ran through the possibilities – maybe I had met her somehow through work? Had she mistaken me for the identity of her internet date? Had Jaime set me up?</p><p>I’m not sure why I felt so compelled to agree, but I told myself I didn’t have a reason not to. I told the waiter ‘yes’.</p><p>And a few moments later, the beautiful woman slid into the seat across from me. She had politely asked if the seat was taken but I think I was so dumbfounded that I didn’t say anything right away.</p><p>“Daenerys.” She introduced herself and my nerves softened. There was something about her voice that was pure light and calm.</p><p>“I’m Jorah. Do you make it a habit of trying to eat dinner with strangers on Valentine’s Day?” I asked her. A new feeling took hold of me and for the first time in weeks, Lynesse was far from my mind. There was something about the spark in Daenerys’ eyes that made me both curious and cautious.</p><p>But it was infinitely better than eating alone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Dinner</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Daenerys:</b>
</p><p>“Do you make it a habit of trying to eat dinner with strangers on Valentine’s Day?”  He asked me as I made myself comfortable at the table.</p><p>I gave him a coy smile.</p><p>“I’m guessing that you weren’t exactly planning on eating here alone when you booked the table,” I replied, asking the waiter for a whiskey, my grin widening at the shocked looked on my dinner guest’s face.</p><p>I saw him blush and instantly found it endearing. Although he was far taller and broader than me, he gave off the air of being a cuddly teddy bear with anyone he cared about.</p><p>His face took on a look of great sadness and it made my heart ache for him. I looked at him questioningly.</p><p>He shook his head as if he were waving away a thought.</p><p>“You just remind me of someone, that’s all,” he said quietly as I watched him fiddle nervously with the cutlery on his side of the table.</p><p>“Looks like you didn’t want to be reminded of them,” I replied, sensing his melancholy. “Maybe this was a stupid idea…maybe I should just go back to my table and leave you alone.”</p><p>I was giving him the chance to tell me to get lost. I’d obviously brought back sad memories for him and despite how angry I felt at the world, I wasn’t so angry that I would cause this seemingly gentle man any further pain. It was clear that we were both the ‘dumped’ and not the ‘dumper’ in our respective relationships.</p><p>His head shot up and he looked at me with soulful blue eyes. Eyes I could find myself getting lost in.</p><p>“No,” he said quickly. “Please, I’d be more than happy to have dinner with you.”</p><p>The waiter returned with my whiskey and I took a sip, trying to hide the fact that it was burning my throat as it made its way down to my empty stomach. After a couple of failed attempts, I squeaked out my order for our starter, my eyes widening in surprise when he ordered the same.</p><p>“So,” Jorah said, leaning forward on his elbows slightly. “Tell me about yourself, Daenerys. What is it that you do?”</p><p>He looked genuinely interested and it shocked me. All too often, the men I met were only interested in one thing - my body. Here was a man who wanted to know more about me than just how good in bed I was.</p><p>I didn’t know where to start. I mean, I was having dinner with this man and I wasn’t sure I could fit in my entire life history over a three-course meal. Whatever this was, it was a one-night thing. Maybe we’d end up spending the night together, but we’d probably end up going our separate ways afterwards. We were both on the rebound after being dumped, a good meal and a pity shag was probably the most either of us were hoping for.</p><p>Weirdly, I found myself wanting to impress him and so I told him all about my humble roots, how I’d come to build a business empire of sorts with my artisan bakery chain. I’d even published a book called the Cakeleesi which had sold fairly well and provided me with enough capital to open a few more bakeries across the city.</p><p>I hadn’t expected Jorah to choke on a mouthful of water when I told him about it.</p><p>He pulled himself together quickly and wiped his mouth on his napkin.</p><p>“You’re the baker of grains?” He asked me.</p><p>Now it was my turn to be shocked. I hadn’t thought, not even for a moment, that he would have a clue as to what I was talking about, let alone know who I was.</p><p>‘The baker of grains’ thing had been a tagline that my business advisor, Tyrion Lannister, insisted on using, telling me that it would give me more exposure in what was a pretty cutthroat business. Tyrion always seemed to come up with the most outrageous ideas and more often than not, I found myself agreeing to whatever his latest marketing ploy was.</p><p>“I’ve spent more money on dragon rolls than any sane man should,” Jorah said before I even had a chance to reply. “I don’t know what secret ingredients you put in them, but they are seriously the best bread I’ve ever tasted.”</p><p>I didn’t have much of a chance to reply before our starters arrived and while we exchanged pleasant conversation as we ate, it wasn’t until our plates were cleared that we began talking in earnest again. Our mains came and went as we shared a bottle of the most expensive wine the restaurant had to offer, both of us throwing caution to the wind and concentrating on nothing more than enjoying each other’s company.</p><p>He asked so many questions about me, where I grew up, how I started my first bakery… There was something about this man that just made me want to talk to him for hours, his gentle nature and calm demeanour instantly making me feel at ease with him. I could find myself quickly  getting used to talking to him…</p><p>We chose different deserts and when he offered me a taste of the chocolate cake he’d ordered; I felt a pleasant twinge in my stomach at the slightly erotic nature of this handsome man leaning forward and placing the spoon in my mouth. Our eyes never left each other as I swirled the rich cake around before swallowing slowly.</p><p>If we hadn’t been in a room full of strangers…</p><p>“Excuse me, would you care for some coffee?” The waiter said as he cleared his throat, breaking the intimate moment between Jorah and I.</p><p>I nodded my head as Jorah smiled at me, hope sparking that he wasn’t ready for this night to end either. I was having such a good time that I’d barely thought about Jon Snow at all. Perhaps he’d done me a favour by dumping me earlier today…I might never have met this handsome, intriguing older man otherwise. I’d only spent a few hours with him, but I found myself already wanting more, age difference be damned.</p><p>What was it they said about an older man?</p><p>I had no doubt that Jorah would be an experienced lover.</p><p><i>Woah,</i> I told myself. <i>Just because you had dinner with him doesn’t mean there’s a promise of anything else.</i></p><p>But oh how I wanted there to be more than just a meal with this man. We’d only just met, but I found myself drawn to him. There was so much I wanted to know, so many questions I wanted to ask him. I knew that I would never grow tired of that whiskey-toned voice of his or the little rumble in his chest when he laughed at something.</p><p>I watched his hands as they twirled the stem of his wine glass and realised that I wanted those same hands on my bare skin. They were hands that looked like they’d seen their fair share of hard work and I wanted to feel their roughened edges all over me.</p><p>“Daenerys, are you ok?”</p><p>His voice brought me back to the present with a jolt and I realised that I must have got lost in my pleasant daydream.</p><p>As our coffee arrived and our meal was quickly drawing to a close, I knew it would be now or never. I took a deep breath and swallowed deeply.</p><p>“Jorah, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Jorah:<br/>
</b>
</p><p>My Gods what had I done?</p><p>Had I really just said that she reminded me of someone? Clearly what I had said or the look on my face had made her second-guess herself as she gave me a very clear chance to stop whatever this moment was and go back to being complete strangers.</p><p>But that was the last thing I wanted.</p><p>“No…Please, I’d be more than happy to have dinner with you.” I entreated her to stay and I am sure I looked a bit desperate in doing so. But I just didn’t want Lynesse to have a hand in ruining anything else in my life.</p><p>I tried my best to lighten the conversation by asking her what she did and the moment she started to tell me about her bakery business and new cookbook, her gorgeous eyes lit up in the most enchanting way. </p><p>This woman sitting across from me was pure light and joy – gesturing animatedly as she told me about how she had grown to love baking in the first place. It was abundantly clear she was so passionate about her job. </p><p>And not only was she a baker – she was the <i>Cakeleesi – the baker of grains.</i> Her charming bakery chain had given the local Costa Coffee a serious run for its money in the last few years. There was one on the way to my office that I stopped in every morning for a dragon roll and I told her so. They were damn delicious and Lynesse hadn’t been a fan of sweets in the house, so they had been my secret guilty pleasure. Part of me started to wonder if we had ever crossed paths before. </p><p>Surely, we couldn’t have – I would have stopped in my tracks if I had seen someone so beautiful. And if she had handed me my dragon roll and coffee? I would have thought I was in heaven. </p><p>Our eyes locked across the table as the waiter set our starters down and she asked about me in return. It was the inevitable part of the conversation I feared. Truthfully, I could have listened to her talk about bread and scones and pastries for the remainder of the evening, but it was only natural she didn’t want me to remain a stranger.</p><p>But this question was always a struggle for me – did I go with what I used to do and loved – or did I go with my current predicament? Women always seemed impressed with the latter. Lynesse was. But Daenerys didn’t strike me as the same as everyone else.</p><p>“Well… I was a photographer. I suppose I still am. I do the occasional friends’ wedding and the like. I had a moment in the art world – but that is gone now,” I did my best to brush it off as nothing spectacular. My few friends always insisted that winning the British Photography Award and having a portrait hanging in the National Portrait Gallery was more than spectacular. But that was so long ago. She would have been a young girl then, “Now I’m the Head of Finance at Bear Insurance. It’s my family’s company.”</p><p>I hoped she wouldn’t know of or care about the business that was my father’s pride and joy and the post there that I’d been shamed into taking to appease him. Being in the arts wasn’t respectable enough for my staunchly traditional father. </p><p>But how could she not know? The headquarters building towered over the Thames, the Bear logo part of the London skyline when lit up at night. It was as much a part of the current city as her bakeries.</p><p>“How about some wine?” I asked her to quickly change the subject. I wasn’t fond of talking about myself. I would rather know more about her and so I caught our waiter’s eye and ordered the most expensive bottle they offered, a Chardonnay from Burgundy.</p><p>The momentary distraction seemed to work and soon our glasses were full again and I saw a playful shine in her eyes that was no doubt matched in mine. She was incredible company. It almost felt as if we had known each other in another life and were simply catching up. </p><p>As we worked our way through our main course, we finished the bottle of wine and were both a little pink-cheeked. I jumped at the chance to order dessert to further prolong our time together. I had seen couples come and go and I was determined to stay with Daenerys as long as I could. As long as she didn’t tire of me.</p><p>When my chocolate cake was placed in front of me, I saw her eyeing it and dipped my spoon into the creamy frosting and decadent cake before asking, “Would you like a taste?”</p><p>My offer had started purely innocent in nature, but when I leaned over the table to have her perfect, pink lips wrap around the spoon, I couldn’t look away and I certainly wasn’t going to be able to stand up anytime soon. My eyes locked with hers, only once dipping when I saw her lick her lips after swallowing. I wanted to kiss her right then and there, but the waiter interrupted, asking if we’d like some coffee.</p><p>I quickly agreed. I didn’t care what he brought me so long as I could stay there with her. And if I was reading her right, she didn’t seem to care either. It made me hopeful that maybe this would be more than just a meal between two lonely people.</p><p>She was young and beautiful and accomplished and vibrant – what would she want with me? She didn’t know my past or my baggage…</p><p>
  <i>But she stayed Jorah. She came over to the table and stayed.</i>
</p><p>I realized I had been lost in thought for a moment, my insecurities toying with me, and when I looked at her, she had a similar look – off somewhere in her mind. </p><p>“Daenerys, are you ok?” I asked her. A hot cup of black coffee was set down in front of me, along with the bill. </p><p>She looked suddenly nervous and I instinctively reached out across the table to touch my fingers to her wrist, to let her know that whatever it was, that it was okay.</p><p>“Jorah, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”</p><p>“Would you like to come over to mine for a drink?” I asked, at nearly the same moment she posed the question to me and we both laughed for a moment. But it put me at a distinct disadvantage. I asked because she had seemed just as sad that the night was ending as I felt, and I didn’t want to waste my chance. But now my cards were laid out on the table for her.</p><p>I immediately realized how presumptuous it sounded and I shook my head, “I’m sorry – I interrupted you and it doesn’t have to be anything more than a drink. And you can say no. Or we can just take a walk…”</p><p>I rubbed the back of my neck, embarrassed. I could feel my pale skin flushing under my collar. I really wasn’t very good at this. </p><p>This time she took my hand and gave me a smile, “Jorah, I was going to ask if we could keep the night going. If this could be more than just the best dinner I’ve had in a very long while.”</p><p>My stomach did a pleasant flip and I’m sure I grinned like a schoolboy. </p><p>“I’d like that very much, Daenerys. Whatever you would like to do, my night belongs to you.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. That Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Daenerys:</b>
</p>
<p>“Would you like to come over to mine for a drink?”</p>
<p>God, yes I wanted to go back to his place for a drink and I was surprised when he beat me to the punch and asked first. Hope bloomed in my chest that he wanted this night to carry on as much as I did.</p>
<p>Before that, I insisted on paying my half of the bill. After all, I’d pretty much invited myself over to his table and there was no way that I was going to let him pay for my meal as well. I was a woman of certain financial means and was not going to let this good man pay for me when I had enough money of my own.</p>
<p>It wasn’t until we stood outside the restaurant that the cold February air hit me, and I started to shiver. It was then that I chastened myself for wearing such an outrageously low-cut dress. Before I could say a word, Jorah shrugged his coat off and placed it over my shoulders.</p>
<p>“Won’t you be cold?” I said as he stood there in nothing but his dress shirt and pants.</p>
<p>He gave me a cheeky grin.</p>
<p>“I don’t tend to feel the cold,” he said, placing his hands in his pockets. “Most people say I make a pretty good portable heater.”</p>
<p>I wondered what it would be like to curl up in is his arms and hoped that I would soon find out. The cut of his shirt left little to the imagination when it came to his strong frame or the lean muscles that hid behind the simple layer of clothes.</p>
<p>I shook myself out of my lurid thoughts, praying that he hadn’t caught me ogling him like some sort of sex-starved teenager.</p>
<p>“How far is your place from here?” I asked.</p>
<p>He gave me a shy smile.</p>
<p>“About a ten minute walk,” he replied. “We can get a cab if you like?” He offered, looking down at my choice of footwear.</p>
<p>Perhaps six inch heels were not the best idea, but then I hadn’t exactly been planning on doing much walking when I put them on this evening either.</p>
<p>“Lead the way,” I said, feeling slightly tipsy after the whiskey and wine we drank during the course of the meal. The coffee was doing little in the way of sobering me up and Jorah must have realised that as he put a steadying arm around me as we tottered down several streets until we stopped at a large townhouse.</p>
<p>“You live here?” I asked, looking up at the four-storey building. He was seriously rich if that were the case.</p>
<p>“It’s an apartment building,” he answered. “I live on the third floor.”</p>
<p>I thanked the gods that the building had an elevator as it gave me a chance to remove my shoes and rub my aching feet as we ascended to Jorah’s floor.</p>
<p>He looked almost nervous as he opened the door and led me into his apartment.</p>
<p>“Here, let me take my jacket,” he said teasingly, removing it from my shoulders and dropping it onto the arm of his leather couch.</p>
<p>This man had more humour and levity in him in one evening than Jon Snow showed in the entirety of our relationship.</p>
<p>My eyes wandered around the lounge, taking in the framed photos adorning the walls. Jorah hadn’t been kidding when he said he was a keen photographer.</p>
<p>“Is more wine ok?” He asked, passing me a glass.</p>
<p>I nodded my thanks, taking a sip and turning my attention back to the pictures on the walls.</p>
<p>“Did you take all of these?” I asked.</p>
<p>He shrugged his shoulders.</p>
<p>“Most of them were taken a few years ago. It’s been a long time since….”</p>
<p>He trailed off without finishing the sentence. He looked so sad that I ached to take him in my arms and comfort him.</p>
<p>It was then that my eye caught a picture that I knew I’d seen somewhere before…</p>
<p>And then it hit me.</p>
<p>I’d seen it in the National Portrait Gallery.</p>
<p>“Oh wow,” I said, sitting down on the leather sofa. “You took that picture?” I asked, gesturing to the photograph that took my breath away when I saw it in the exhibition.</p>
<p>I saw him blush and fidget nervously.</p>
<p>“It’s nothing special,” he replied, staring at his wine glass.</p>
<p>I took another gulp of my wine and settled back on the sofa, turning to look at him.</p>
<p>“Why don’t you do it anymore?” I asked him. He was talented, surely he didn’t need me to tell him that?</p>
<p>He shrugged his shoulders and took a sip of his own wine.</p>
<p>“Taking photos doesn’t pay the bills, not anymore…” he answered cryptically, and I knew without a doubt that his talent and skill could have made him a lot of money had he chosen to continue.</p>
<p>“Do you still have the equipment?” I asked.</p>
<p>He nodded his head and was silent for a moment, I could see the indecision flit across his handsome face.</p>
<p>“I can show you if you like?”</p>
<p>My heart broke at how timid he sounded. It was almost as if he was expecting me to say something hurtful to him.</p>
<p>I placed my wine glass down on the table as he gently guided me to my feet.</p>
<p>“Lead the way, kind sir,” I said, feeling ever so slightly tipsy again.</p>
<p>He led me down the hallway to a darkened room and I noticed it was the only room in the apartment with no visible light from the street outside.</p>
<p>“Is this your serial killer room?” I joked as he flicked on the switch.</p>
<p>“It’s my dark room,” he replied as we both entered. I could see that most of the equipment was covered with cloths or rags and the dust settling on the room’s surfaces made it clear that he hadn’t used any of it for quite a while.</p>
<p>“So this is where the magic happens?” I teased him. I felt awful when he looked back at me with a pained expression.</p>
<p>“Not anymore,” he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. I could see the tufts of chest hair peeking out from the top of his shirt, wondering what it would feel like to run my hands through it…</p>
<p>And then a thought flashed across my mind.</p>
<p>Maybe it was too outrageous, and he would turn me down immediately, but then again we’d got this far with me being presumptuous towards him.</p>
<p>What was the worst that could happen - that he would say no?</p>
<p>I spied the camera in the corner of the room and threw caution to the wind by picking it up and putting in his hands.</p>
<p>“Jorah,” I said, both my face and tone serious. “Would you take some photos of me?”</p>
<p>I saw him open and close his mouth several times before he cleared his throat to speak.</p>
<p>“Are you sure?” He asked.</p>
<p>I knew instinctively that whatever happened, I would be in safe hands as far as Jorah was concerned and besides, after so many months of being second-best in Jon’s eyes, I craved the feeling of being the centre of someone’s world, even if it were for only a night. We’d only spent a few hours together, but it had been the happiest and lightest I could remember myself feeling for a long time. If tonight was all we had, I at least wanted to have some sort of memory to keep me warm on the cold and lonely nights ahead.</p>
<p>I took Jorah’s hand, feeling a frisson of excitement as our fingers touched and he led me back down the hallway.</p><hr/>
<p>
  <b>Jorah:</b>
</p>
<p>“Lead the way,” Daenerys said, her small frame drowned in my coat around her shoulders and my alcohol induced confidence faltered as her words meant acknowledging the reality of what was about to happen. I had asked her to come back to mine, she had said yes, and our feet were carrying us there. No woman had seen the inside of my new flat and I mentally tried to assess if it was an unforgivable level of messy. </p>
<p>She seemed impressed at the building, although I assured her I only lived in a small part of it. It was still new to me – and vastly different than where Lynesse and I lived together – a picturesque white walk-up with wrought-iron detail in Kensington that cost a fortune. I still had the means for that – but this was more my speed.</p>
<p>I nodded to the doorman and led Daenerys into the elevator with me, holding her close as we waited together in silence to reach the third floor. It felt like my hands were covered in oil as I fumbled for my keys and then was eventually able to let us both inside. A cursory glance told me things were decent enough for company and I immediately bolted to the kitchen to grab something else to drink to calm my growing nerves. </p>
<p>“Is more wine ok?” I asked her as I returned to her carrying two glasses. She didn’t look at me – her eyes were scanning my walls.</p>
<p>My photographs adorned almost every inch of wall space not blocked by bookshelves. It wasn’t for my ego – I simply didn’t have enough room in this place to keep them in storage. They were part of me – an extension - and memories I both hated and enjoyed re-visiting now that I was single. Lynesse had never wanted them up.</p>
<p>I heard her ask if I had taken them all and I merely shrugged. It wasn’t a big deal. They were old. Their age the gap between her and I. And I felt self-conscious.</p>
<p>And then she saw <i>it.</i></p>
<p><i>The one.</i> The image that convinced me and the rest of Britain that I was good at what I did. It was the image that bore my name on the wall text next to it in the National Portrait Gallery. A black and white photograph of a famous British stage actor, naked from the waist up, his arms contorted around him in a grotesque hug of sorts. All sinewy limbs. I had played with light and shadow and lines. This version, my original, was much smaller than the blown-up print hanging on those gallery walls, and yet she still picked it out.</p>
<p>I took a long gulp of my wine and shook my head that it was nothing at all. Just a simple photograph.</p>
<p>“Why don’t you do it anymore?” she asked me, and I couldn’t form an answer. She looked so beautiful, standing there in her dress and now bare feet, her hair glowing from the soft light of the lamp.</p>
<p>The museum told me I was talented. The galleries I worked with said the same. And yet blood and guilt tugged harder at me than that – my father’s opinion won out.</p>
<p>I wanted desperately to change the subject, to pour us both more wine and head to my bed, but her next question stopped me in my tracks. I had only known her for a few hours, and she took more genuine interest in me than anyone had in a long time. It buoyed me.</p>
<p>“Do you still have the equipment?”</p>
<p>I nodded – thinking of my spare bedroom that I kept everything in. As much as I didn’t want to make a big deal about my photography, part of me wanted to show her.</p>
<p>Slowly, carefully, I took the leap and asked, “I can show you if you like?”</p>
<p>She seemed game and I took her hand in mine, gently leading her down the hallway to my dark room. The windows were taped over with thick black paper and I had a red light installed. When I moved in here alone, I thought I would take it all up again as a hobby, but I hadn’t touched any of it yet. All of my equipment was still under tarps and in boxes, my years of negatives kept safely in storage bins.</p>
<p>I watched her explore. She ran her fingers over the slightly dusty tarps that covered my tripods and lenses and lighting equipment. Her eyes fell on one of my cameras, uncovered on a small table in the corner and she gingerly picked it up and turned to me before placing it in my hands.</p>
<p>“Jorah, would you take some photos of me?” She was so serious, and my heart skipped a beat. How could I say no, even though I hadn’t held my camera in ages?</p>
<p>“Are you sure?” I asked, wanting her absolute consent. The look we shared told me that I wouldn’t just be taking a picture of her sitting sweetly on my sofa. <i>It would be more than that…</i></p>
<p>She touched my hand as her reply and led me back down the hallway to the sitting room.</p>
<p>“Okay…” I thought out-loud, surprised at how quickly and easily I fell back to this creative side of myself. The weight of the camera in my hand felt almost comforting, “Why don’t you have a seat? Wherever you are comfortable…”</p>
<p>I gave her a moment to choose as I rummaged around in a drawer to find my lighter and light a few candles to replace the lamps. When I turned back around, she was in the worn, soft leather brown chair where I did all of my reading. Her legs were tucked underneath her, exposing the milky flesh of her thigh and she pulled one of the chunky knit blankets that my younger cousin had made for me for Christmas around her.</p>
<p>“This okay?”</p>
<p>“Beautiful.” I promised. From a purely artistic approach, she was a subject anyone would fall over themselves to shoot. </p>
<p>I raised the camera and checked the lighting through the lens. To me, in that moment, she was otherworldly. Her slightly sleepy gaze, her tousled hair, and her full lips made me ache to be closer to her. I took a test shot. </p>
<p>“Don’t worry about posing…” I said. I got down on my knees to be level with her in the chair. I always liked to catch candid moments – raw moments. But her eyes followed my every move. Maybe there would be another time when I could really see her in the same way she was seeing me right now.</p>
<p>I hoped there would be so many more times.</p>
<p>She giggled and the sound filled up my chest and made it easier to breathe. Her grip on the wine glass was loose and I reached over to take it from her.</p>
<p>“Careful there,” I teased, and her look would have brought me to my knees if I wasn’t already on them. There was happiness there, but also fire.</p>
<p>Another few clicks of the camera. I showed the images to her and she seemed pleased. But then her eyes darted back to my walls.</p>
<p>“When you photograph people, they all seem to have one thing in common…” she noted with just the corner of her mouth upturned. </p>
<p>“Daenerys…” it came out as both a warning and a plea. I wanted her so badly – to see the skin underneath her dress – to touch her. But we both had had plenty of alcohol and I didn’t want to do something she would regret later.</p>
<p>Almost as if challenging me, she stood up and unzipped the back of her dress, shrugging her shoulders out of it and folding it down to her waist. In that moment, I was lost. This woman who had turned my entire life upside down in a few hours with her passion and humour and charm was now stripping down in my flat. My hands shook as I watched her shimmy out of the garment and then kick it to the side. When she hooked her fingers into the fabric of her panties, I found my voice again.</p>
<p>“No…wait…” I stood and stepped closer to her. My free hand gently caressed the side of her cheek and then my palm splayed open as I moved my hand down to the back of her neck, “I want that honour.”</p>
<p>Then I kissed her. And it was more than just the lust that a night of good conversation and flirtation and wine could create. I felt her kiss deep in the pit of my stomach and somehow it was also familiar – like we had done this before. <i>Like we were made to do this.</i><br/>
“Jorah…” she blinked as she looked up at me. Her cheeks were as flushed as I’m sure mine were.</p>
<p>“Here…just one more…”</p>
<p>As much as I wanted to keep kissing her and never stop, I would have been remiss to not capture this. Her.</p>
<p>She sat down again in the chair and I wrapped the blanket around her so that her bare shoulders and the swell of her breasts was the only skin showing. </p>
<p>This time she wasn’t so aware of my camera. She closed her eyes and smiled and tilted her neck and that was the moment I captured. The one that I would remember her by if this was all we had.</p>
<p>I set my camera down and gently parted the blanket to wrap my hands around her waist and easily lift her into my arms.</p>
<p>“You are wearing far too many clothes still…” Daenerys teased as she wrapped her legs around me, and I carried her back down the hallway and past the darkroom to my bedroom.</p>
<p>“I seem to recall that being your idea to just get naked in a complete stranger’s flat.” I smiled and kissed her again before laying her down on my bed. She rested back on her elbows and looked up at me.</p>
<p>“I don’t want you to be a stranger, Jorah.” </p>
<p>She wasn’t a stranger to me. I had shared more with her in one night than many of my closest friends.</p>
<p>“I’m lucky to have met you, Daenerys.” I told her as my fingers worked sloppily to unbutton my shirt. I wanted to add ‘If this is the last time we do this…’ but stopped myself. Was this a one-night stand? I didn’t know how those even worked or what she wanted or truly even why she was alone tonight in the first place. </p>
<p>But the way her brilliant eyes trailed down my chest as I got undressed stymied the rest of my thoughts on the matter. When I was down to my pants, I crawled onto the bed to join her, hovering over her as I planted a soft kiss on the lacy fabric covering the place between her thighs that I had been thinking about in excruciating detail for the last half hour.</p>
<p>I heard a soft gasp leave her lips and I ventured another kiss there, this time, using my hands to pull the fabric away from her body and down her legs. My nose met the soft, blonde hairs there and I was instantly intoxicated by her sweetness. Another kiss, right on her sensitive pearl, and this time I was met with a moan in return.</p><p>

I felt her tap my shoulder lightly, as if to tell me I didn’t need to. I don’t know what man had ever made her think she needed to only accept a few moments of this, or worse, to stop to return the favour, but I kept going. I loved the taste of her, and I took my time, running my hands over her thighs and behind her knees and down her calves as I did. I felt her body quiver and the heat from her centre only made me more feverish to have her. I felt a hand in my hair and the bone of her hip against my cheek as she twisted against my sheets. And then she lost herself and I had the pleasure of tasting it.</p>
<p>Only then did my eyes take in the rest of her. She had her arms draped haphazardly across the sheets and her breasts rose and fell with every quick breath. My cock ached as I rubbed it against the bed where I was laying between her legs, needing friction.</p>
<p>Daenerys rested her hands on my chest when I moved next to her. And then her hands travelled down my stomach, agonizingly slowly, before she reached my hardness. I broke away from her touch for just a moment to rid myself of the last piece of fabric separating us before kissing her again. I took her in my arms and never felt more content with her body against mine.</p>
<p>She whispered that she was on the pill, but I still put a rubber on. And I held her close as I pushed inside her for the first time. I suddenly felt like a schoolboy again, afraid that I was going to lose myself too quickly and embarrass myself. Her moans made me too dizzy with desire. </p>
<p>“Daenerys, you are beautiful.” I told her between my own moans as we started to meet each other in a frenzied rhythm, both racing closer to the peak of our pleasure. Her warm lips on mine and her curves under my hands and her heady sighs and the way she bit my earlobe all culminated in the best orgasm of my recent memory. I didn’t stop until she joined me, and we laid together in silence in my dark bedroom for a long moment. All that I could hear was my heart thrumming in my ears and her soft breathing.</p>
<p>I reached my hand out to hold hers, “Would it be too presumptuous if I said I didn’t want to call you a cab.”</p>
<p>“I’m not leaving this bed.”</p>
<p>I could hear the smile in her voice, and I pulled her close to me and closed my eyes, singularly happy.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Morning After</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Daenerys:</b>
</p>
<p>My eyes sprang open at the sound of a car horn on the street outside and it took me a few moments to realise that I wasn’t in my own apartment.</p>
<p>I found myself lying next to a handsome older man who still appeared to be fast asleep and so I tried to keep my groans as quiet as possible as I crept from the bed in search of the kitchen. My mouth felt like a whole litter of hairy puppies spent the night making themselves at home in there.</p>
<p>After quietly opening several cupboards, I found a glass and filled it with water from the tap at the sink. My head was pounding and I drank far more than I’d intended to last night, but I didn’t regret a single moment of it.</p>
<p>Being as quiet as possible, I went in search of my phone to send a quick message to Missy, letting her know that I was ok and that I was safe. She had been a constant source of support throughout my relationship with Jon and even offered to change her plans with Grey for Valentine’s Day just so that I wouldn’t be on my own. I appreciated the offer and told her as much, but I had no desire to be anyone’s third wheel, especially on Valentine’s Day.</p>
<p>Jorah’s camera was still on the coffee table and the sight of it took me back to our impromptu photoshoot from the night before. I’d asked him to take some photos of me with the pretence of talking things further and his actions when he led me to his bedroom left me in no doubt that he wanted it as much as I did.</p>
<p>I’ve been with my fair share of men in my time, but none of them set my body on fire the way that Jorah did. He was good, so much better than any other man I’d slept with, and as he worked his way down my body to my most intimate area I silently wondered why his wife would ever want to cheat on a man who could do so much with his mouth and his hands.</p>
<p>I told Jorah that I was on the pill, but he was a gentleman and took extra precautions before we finally did the deed. Probably due to my experiences with other men, I had expected it to be a quick shag and for Jorah to roll over and fall asleep, muttering something about me calling for a cab, but to my surprise he pulled me close and told me that he didn’t want me to leave.</p>
<p>I made it clear that I wasn’t planning to leave his bed any time soon and when my eyes began to grow heavy, I silently hoped that it wouldn’t be the last time I fell asleep in his arms.</p>
<p>I crept back towards Jorah’s bedroom, my lips curling into a smile as I saw our discarded clothes still strewn across the floor. He had rolled onto his front in my absence with one hand cradling the pillow, his slow, even breaths telling me he was still deeply asleep.</p>
<p>Did he realise just how damn cute he looked when he was sleeping?</p>
<p>And then an idea struck me.</p>
<p>Jorah wanted to catch me in a candid moment last night and it seemed only fair that I returned the favour. Creeping closer towards him, I zoomed in with my phone’s camera and took a photo, cursing myself for not having my phone on mute as the noise woke Jorah from his sleep.</p>
<p>“Ooops,” I said, blushing like a child who’d been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.</p>
<p>I watched as he rolled onto his back and rubbed a hand over his face.</p>
<p>“What are you doing?” He asked, still half asleep.</p>
<p>I turned my phone to show him the picture I’d just taken.</p>
<p>“You looked so cute, I couldn’t resist,” I told him honestly.</p>
<p>He frowned at me in response.</p>
<p>“And you took several photos of me last night,” I added. “It seems only fair that I take some of you.”</p>
<p>He ran a hand through his hair.</p>
<p>“Hmm,” he replied, “maybe not when I have bed hair and morning breath though?” He suggested.</p>
<p>We looked at each other for a number of moments. I was lost in the thought of what it would feel like to wake up next to Jorah on a regular basis - bed hair, morning breath, and all. Was he wondering the same thing as he looked at me?</p>
<p>“About last night - “</p>
<p>He cut me off before I had a chance to finish what I was going to say, his eyes dropping to his hands, looking like a puppy expecting a kick to its flank.</p>
<p>“It’s fine,” he whispered. “You don’t have to explain. I had a good time last night, but I understand if this is the last we see of each other.”</p>
<p>My mouth dropped open.</p>
<p>He was wrong, so, so wrong if he thought I wanted nothing more than just a one night stand.</p>
<p>“Woah there,” I said, taking one of his hands in my own and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Is that what you think this is?”</p>
<p>He looked at me then, his eyes full of sadness.</p>
<p>“It’s ok, I understand,” he said quietly.</p>
<p>“Uh, no you don’t,” I told him as I climbed back into the bed with him. “Unless that’s what you want?” I asked, suddenly realising that I hadn’t considered that all he might have wanted was a one night only affair.</p>
<p>He shook his head.</p>
<p>“Last night,” he began before trailing off for a few moments. “Last night was one of the best nights I can remember in a long time. I want to know more about you, Daenerys Targaryen…I want to know about the things that are important to you, the things you love, the things that make you who you are.”</p>
<p>I smiled at him and picked up my phone, scrolling through the photos stored on there. I found one of Missy and I together celebrating her twenty-first birthday.</p>
<p>“This is my best friend Missy,” I told him, handing him the phone. “We went to school together and we’ve kind of just stuck together ever since.”</p>
<p>I scrolled to another picture, one in which I was smiling as I posed in the door of the very first bakery I ever opened.</p>
<p>“The original Cakeleesi bakery in Shoreditch. I worked all the hours God sent getting the damn thing open. I honestly thought I was going to have a heart attack before I was thirty trying to get that place off the ground.”</p>
<p>Maybe I had just been fortunate, but the bakery became a success and soon one bakery turned into two, and then slots on cookery shows, and before I knew it I was publishing my own recipe books and overseeing a chain of successful stores.</p>
<p>As fate would have it, a picture of Jon and I looking happy popped up on my phone. I scrolled past it quickly, but not fast enough for the man lying next to me not to notice.</p>
<p>“Was he someone special to you?” Jorah asked me.</p>
<p>“Not anymore,” I answered, kicking myself for not deleting the many pictures of Jon on my phone. We’d only broken up yesterday, but I now wanted every last vestige of him out of my life for good. </p>
<p>“He’s my ex,” I said quietly, placing my phone on the bed.</p>
<p>“The one you broke up with yesterday?”</p>
<p>I nodded.</p>
<p>“Well, the man is a damn fool,” Jorah said with a huff. “Why he would ever let anyone like you go is beyond me.”</p>
<p>“You don’t have to sweet-talk me,” I told him.</p>
<p>Jorah looked at me, his face serious.</p>
<p>“I mean it,” he said, cupping my cheek tenderly. “The man is a bloody idiot if he can’t see what’s right in front of him.”</p>
<p>The way Jorah was looking at me made me feel like I was the only thing in the world that mattered to him. Those soulful blue eyes of his were gazing into mine and I feared that I would get lost in them if I looked into them for too long.</p>
<p>I was unnerved by the feelings this man was provoking in me. Did I only feel this strongly because I was on the rebound from a long-term relationship? We’d slept together, but how much did I really know about the man lying next to me?</p>
<p>Jon seemed like one of the good guys when we first met, but once those initial flashes of lust dissipated, it was clear to me that I would always be second-best when it came to his priorities. I’d fallen for a handsome face and sweet words before, maybe my feelings toward Jorah were being magnified by the anger I still felt for Jon for leaving me like he had.</p>
<p>Well, if I never asked I would never know and so I turned on my side, holding one of Jorah’s hands in my own.</p>
<p>“Ok, your turn,” I said as I looked at him. “Tell me about the things that are important to Jorah Mormont, the things you love, the things that make you who you are.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <b>Jorah:</b>
</p>
<p>I thought I had died, truly, when I opened my eyes to a pounding headache and an angel with a sheepish grin hovering over me.</p>
<p>And then it all came flooding back – the dinner, the wine, the whiskey, the photos and <i>her</i>. Daenerys. </p>
<p>It took me a moment to realize she had taken a photo of me, her way of playfully nodding back to the night before and while I was thrilled to see that she hadn’t run off in the night, I did feel a bit self-conscious and ran a hand through my hair, annoyed when I felt that it was rumpled from sleep.</p>
<p>The harsh light of a Saturday morning after a Friday night imbibing way too much alcohol had me looking around my flat with fresh, embarrassed eyes. When I looked at her and saw her start to speak, I panicked.</p>
<p>“About last night…” she started. They were words I expected, but not what I wanted to hear.</p>
<p>My mind ran through my plan of action. I would offer her breakfast and a cab and have her watch as I deleted the photographs I took of her. Then we would part ways and I would have to find a new bakery to get my morning pastries at because what I felt for her already and the pain of losing that would certainly knock me on my arse for a while.</p>
<p>“It’s fine,” I said. “You don’t have to explain. I had a good time last night, but I understand if this is the last we see of each other.”</p>
<p>I ventured another look at her – expecting her to nod and that would be that. Instead, she grabbed my hand, squeezed it, and asked if that was really what I wanted.</p>
<p><i>Of course</i> it wasn’t, and hope bloomed in my chest that I wasn’t facing a morning of goodbyes.</p>
<p>“Last night,” I began, trying to choose my words very carefully. “Last night was one of the best nights I can remember in a long time. I want to know more about you, Daenerys Targaryen…I want to know about the things that are important to you, the things you love, the things that make you who you are.”</p>
<p>I hoped that would make her see that I had started to care about her, even after just a few hours together. I had slept better than I had in weeks with her by my side and the previous night had made me genuinely happy. The kind of happiness that warms you from the inside.</p>
<p>I watched her as she turned away to grab her phone from my nightstand and then settled back into bed with me to show me some photos. I kept close to her; my arm draped around her waist as she flicked through memories.</p>
<p>She showed me a picture of her best friend and of her posing in front of the bakery and a few photos of herself on various trips. All of them had the same common denominator – her incredible smile. It was infectious, and I enjoyed this peek into her life.</p>
<p>But then my heart stopped when she tried to hide a series of pictures of herself and a man. <i>A good-looking man.</i> Her fingers scrolled quickly but I stopped her, “Was he someone special to you?”</p>
<p>I could tell she hesitated as she searched for an answer and then finally told me it was her ex – the one that had just dumped her the day before. A bit of jealousy gnawed at my stomach and then anger that anyone would even dream of letting go of a woman like her – someone who was driven and funny and breathtakingly beautiful. And I told her so.</p>
<p>I gently thumbed her soft cheek and planted a kiss on her forehead before re-iterating that her ex was a bloody idiot. The smile she rewarded me with made me feel things I hadn’t in a long while. And this time I couldn’t blame those feelings on the alcohol.</p>
<p>And then she turned my own question back on me and asked me what I cared about – what made me who I was. </p>
<p>“Before I can answer that, I need coffee,” I told her and got out of bed, offering her my hand to join me. It was a bit of a stalling tactic, as no one had ever asked me something like that so directly or so soon into a relationship.</p>
<p><i>It wasn’t a relationship yet</i> I reminded myself.</p>
<p>I led her out of my bedroom and to the kitchen, where there were two barstools at the edge of the counter and she slid onto one as I started the coffee and grabbed a pan and a few things out of the fridge. I certainly wasn’t a baker as she was, but I knew my way around a decent omelette.</p>
<p>“Milk?” I offered as I poured her a cup of coffee. I normally would opt for tea, but my hangover demanded something stronger.</p>
<p>“No, just like that…” she smiled at me before taking a sip and I raised an eyebrow at her before cracking an egg into the pan. </p>
<p>“Black coffee? I never would have guessed,” I told her. As I learned little things about her, I could feel my heart starting to become enamoured with her. I distracted my sappy thoughts as I poured milk into my coffee until it turned a light tan and then added some sugar. It was how I watched my mother drink it when I was younger and somehow it had stuck.</p>
<p>“So…my question…” she prompted me, resting her chin on her hand as she watched me cook. </p>
<p>“I haven’t forgotten,” I promised as I tipped the pan towards her plate to serve her the best veggie omelette I could and then started on one for myself, “For one – photography of course – which you have single-handedly rekindled my love for.”</p>
<p>If she hadn’t come into my life or my apartment, I don’t know when I would have picked up my camera again and that meant more to me than I could articulate to her, “I like football. Watching and playing. My friend Jaime and I started an unofficial club with some of our friends.”</p>
<p>As I took another sip of my coffee, I felt embarrassed again, admitting that I along with a bunch of middle-aged men regularly got too competitive with one another playing football, so then I added, “I read quite a bit, I love spending time with my family – well, my extended family really, and as you can see, I very much enjoy cooking breakfast for beautiful women named Daenerys.”</p>
<p>As I plated my own omelette and sat down across from her with a wink, I took a moment to pause and appreciate the moment. Although I didn’t want to fully get my hopes up, something told me this could be the beginning of something incredible – and that maybe, <i>just maybe</i>, all of the pain I went through with Lynesse and the heartbreak she went through with that dark-haired arse led us to this very second. </p>
<p>“This isn’t half-bad,” she conceded and her already half-empty plate told me her compliment was sincere.</p>
<p>“Well, then you just say the word and I will cook for you any time,” I promised her and it made me realize how badly I already wanted to see her again and she hadn’t even left, “But before I do, I would like to take you on a real date – one where we start at the same dinner table together this time?”</p>
<p>I couldn’t hide the way my voice sounded hopeful and I held my breath as I waited for her answer. I didn’t know where this was going, but a date would mean more time around her and I would do anything for another night like last night.</p>
<p>“I’d like that.” She nodded and we spent the remainder of breakfast in a mixture of happy silence, flirtatious looks, and the random laughter that comes at the beginning of falling for someone. </p>
<p>“I don’t want to keep you all day – I’m sure you have plenty of other things to do on a rare sunny February day.” I kept it light. I’d gladly spend the entire day – the entire weekend even – with her if I could.</p>
<p>“I actually have to stop by one of the bakeries for coffee with my best friend. I’m hosting a private baking class and then tonight I’m having drinks with my best friend...again.”</p>
<p>“Ah, Missy?” I asked and her smile that I had remembered her name so easily made me oddly sad – had no other man bothered to care about such an important detail of her life after it was mentioned? I glanced at the clock – it was already nearing mid-morning, “Anything you need to get ready is yours.”</p>
<p>“Your shower?” she asked.</p>
<p>“Right off my bedroom – you remember where that is?” I looked up at her with a grin.</p>
<p>“No, actually, I was hoping you could remind me Jorah?”</p>
<p>She was biting her lip and looking at me in a way that nearly brought me to my knees.</p>
<p>This woman was going to turn my life upside down and I wanted it no other way.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Coming Clean</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Daenerys:</b>
</p>
<p>“You’re twenty minutes late,” Missandei said good-naturedly as she glanced at the time on her phone. “You know you shouldn’t leave your best friend hanging,” she admonished me.</p>
<p>I shrugged my shoulders and attempted to look sincere. It was my fault that I was late to meet my best friend, and all because I’d become entirely too preoccupied with the man I met last night.</p>
<p>I expected some sort of awkward morning routine, one in which I would do my best not to get in his way or overstay my welcome. What I hadn’t expected was for him to cook me breakfast and lend me his shower, but not before we’d made a detour back to the bedroom.</p>
<p>Although the first time had been good, the second was even better, maybe because both of us were sober enough to really feel the sparks of passion fly between us. When we were together, time seemed to lose all meaning and it was midday before I even knew it.</p>
<p>“I got a little caught up,” I said, looking abashed.</p>
<p>Missandei gave me a searching look.</p>
<p>“Please tell me that you didn’t chase Jon down last night. You know he’s no good for you.”</p>
<p>I ordered a coffee from the waitress and looked at my friend, placing one palm on my chest and the other in the air.</p>
<p>“I do solemnly swear that I went nowhere near Jon Snow last night.”</p>
<p>I tried my best, but I couldn’t hide the smile that was threatening to break my face in half.</p>
<p>Missy nodded her head.</p>
<p>“Good. Too much white bread isn’t good for you,” she said with a smile.</p>
<p>It had been a nickname that Missy and my other friends had begun calling Jon - ‘White bread McMan Pain’ and it was only now that I was rid of him that I could see the funny side of their teasing.</p>
<p>“If Jon were a sandwich, he’d be boring white bread,” Dorrea told me over drinks one night. </p>
<p>“And what kind of sandwich do you suggest I should be dating?” I’d asked her.</p>
<p>“A ham and cheese,” she’d replied in an instant. “It’s a classic blend of flavours, golden, dependable and always there for you if you’re stuck for choice.”</p>
<p>“I dined on ham and cheese last night,” I told Missy as I nodded my thanks to the waitress and sipped on my coffee. I’d need several more cups to blast away my killer hangover, though.</p>
<p>Missy looked shocked. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she cleared her throat.</p>
<p>“Oh girl, tell me you didn’t!”</p>
<p>I shrugged my shoulders aiming for nonchalance.</p>
<p>“What? How?”</p>
<p>“I went to the restaurant last night,” I began.</p>
<p>“On your own?”</p>
<p>I nodded my head.</p>
<p>“There was a guy sitting across the room on his own and so I thought ‘fuck it’ and asked if I could join him.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Missy said as she looked at me. “Oh, wow.”</p>
<p>“We had dinner, got to know one another…”</p>
<p>“Tell me you didn’t…”</p>
<p>I smiled at her. I felt no shame for what Jorah, and I had done the night before, or this morning for that matter.</p>
<p>Missy made a grab for my hand.</p>
<p>“Come on girl, spill the beans,” she teased. “What’s his name? What does he look like?”</p>
<p>She wanted more answers than I was willing to give. We’d only spent one night together, but I already knew that I felt something for Jorah. I wanted to keep our relationship as quiet as possible, to revel in the secrecy of Jorah and I being in our own little world before friends from both sides got involved and demanded to know more.</p>
<p>“His name is Jorah,” I answered. “And the rest is none of your business,” I told her a serious look on my face.</p>
<p>Missy rolled her eyes at me. </p>
<p>“We all know that you have awful taste in men,” she told me, tutting quietly in an attempt to admonish me. “Someone needs to check that you’re not dating yet another douchebag.”</p>
<p>I winced at her words, knowing that she was right, my history with men was dating one arsehole after the other. Like smoking cigarettes, I knew dating douchebags was hazardous to my health, but I did it all the same, feeling the heady rush and only regretting the poisonous side effects much later on.</p>
<p>Reluctantly, I pulled my phone from my purse and scrolled to the picture of Jorah and I that I’d taken just before I left his apartment this morning.</p>
<p>I saw Missy’s eyes widen in surprise.</p>
<p>“He’s older than I expected,” Missy said as she kept looking at the picture of Jorah and I, our heads leaning towards one another. “But he’s cute….very cute. Are you going to see him again, or was it a one-time thing?”</p>
<p>“Maybe,” I said as I shrugged my shoulders.</p>
<p>Of course I was going to see him again, I just wasn’t going to tell Missy that. She wouldn’t be able to hide her glee from the rest of our friends and then Jorah and I would become common knowledge within a matter of hours and I’d have to put up with the endless teasing that would come with it.</p>
<p>My phone started ringing and I hoped it would be Jorah calling to arrange our first ‘official’ date. I couldn’t help the pang of disappointment I felt when I saw Tyrion’s name come upon my caller ID. I silenced the phone and hoped he would leave a message.</p>
<p>“Maybe you should get that,” Missy suggested as Tyrion called me for the fifth time. “It’s probably something important.”</p>
<p>“Can it not wait until Monday?” I said irritably as I answered the phone. My headache was coming back at full force and I let fly my annoyance at being called for business on my day ‘off’.</p>
<p>“Ah, I take it that you haven’t seen the latest edition of ‘In the Mix’ yet?” Tyrion asked me, his voice strained.</p>
<p>‘In the Mix’ was the leading publication for all things bakery and baked goods. You weren’t anyone in the industry unless you’d featured on their front page.</p>
<p>“I’ve been a little busy lately,” I said - busy being dumped by the man who claimed to love me - but my business manager didn’t’ need to know about that. As long as my bakeries and books were turning a profit, he had little interest in what I did outside of working hours.</p>
<p>“Well…uh….ah…” Tyrion began to stutter. “Try not to overreact when you see it. We can handle it and smooth it over quickly. It’s really not that big of a deal.”</p>
<p>My eyes narrowed and I felt my head thump painfully once more.</p>
<p>“What aren’t you telling me?” I demanded, my voice raising as Missy sat opposite me looking embarrassed.</p>
<p>“It’s best you read it for yourself,” Tyrion told me. “And don’t say anything to anyone until we’ve had a chance to formulate a response.”</p>
<p>I hung up on him and tossed a £10 on the table to cover my coffee before stalking down the road to find the nearest shop that sold magazines. Missy was racing to catch up with me, but I paid her no heed as I made a beeline for cookery section and my eyes landed on the smug grin of the Bite King, his cold blue eyes staring back at me from the front page of the magazine.</p>
<p>I flipped through the pages until I came to the article and as I read each word, I felt my mouth go dry.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <b>Jorah:</b>
</p>
<p>After Daenerys left, I tidied up the kitchen and then moved back to the bedroom. Part of me didn’t want to make the rumpled bed, as it was still such a fresh, sweet memory of being there with her. But I forced myself – if she was going to come around more often in the future, which I sincerely hoped she would - I would need to up my domestic skills.</p>
<p>It was going to be a lazy Saturday for me, and I found myself drawn to my usual chair in the living area of my flat, the one Daenerys had sat in the night before. I picked up a book and tried to lose myself in it, but I kept getting whiffs of the clean scent that came off of her skin and then my eyes fell on my camera still sitting on the coffee table.</p>
<p>A thought came to my mind of how to pass the day and it made my pulse quicken. I hesitated, nervous. I knew myself – I normally would have stopped there and let the wave of inspiration pass. But this time I didn’t – and I knew it was because of <i>her.</i></p>
<p>Once I set my mind to it, getting back into my photography routine wasn’t hard. I put a Stones record on my player to fill the flat with ambient music and carried the camera to my dark room. It was all or nothing now, and soon all of the sheets protecting my equipment from dust were in a pile in the corner and I found my jugs of chemicals.</p>
<p>I smiled as I tugged at the light switch overhead to darken the room. My muscles had this dance memorized. The film went in the canister with the developer and then the magic started. I turned the tube in my hands over and over, agitating it, wondering what the images would look like and if she would like them. There were periods of both rest and movement before a stop-bath, a fixer, and a rinse. </p>
<p>Time seemed to stop as I worked and re-hung twine across the length of the room to hang the wet film strips on with clothespins. I cut them, vaguely making out the shadows of Daenerys in the developed film. They’d hang this way for a while to dry and then I could really look at them. I was certain they’d be too beautiful for words.</p>
<p>I felt my phone in the back pocket of my jeans ring and wiped my hands off on a towel before answering.</p>
<p>“Hello?”</p>
<p>“How was last night?”</p>
<p>I instantly recognized the voice of my best friend Jaime and the concern it held. Concern about me.</p>
<p>After last night and my work on the photos this morning, I had nearly forgotten that yesterday was supposed to have been terrible for me - Valentine’s Day as a newly divorced man. </p>
<p>“I should ask you how last night was?” I ignored his question, wanting to focus instead on his planned date with his new girlfriend, Brienne. </p>
<p>“I asked you first…”</p>
<p>
  <i>Stubborn idiot</i>
</p>
<p>“Do you want to meet at the pub?” I sighed. I’d like to see him anyway and I knew I wasn’t getting out of this conversation. I’d rather have it over a few beers.</p>
<p>“Yeah. First round is on me, alright?” There was still worry in his voice as I hung up. I couldn’t blame him for it. For anyone that knew my situation prior to last night, it was a rather sorry state of affairs.</p>
<p>It didn’t take me long to get down to our local pub. Jaime and I lived within a fifteen-minute walk of one another and knew each other through Uni. He had seen me at my best and my worst, at my highs in the art world and at my lows with the Lynesse mess and my father’s company. We were unlikely friends. He is outgoing, charming, and usually the centre of attention. Everything I prefer not to be if I don’t have to. And it works well for us.</p>
<p>“You look okay.” Jaime said simply when I found him at the bar. A pint was already waiting on the bar top for me and I slid onto the empty stool next to him.</p>
<p>“You expected me to be red-eyed and weepy?” I laughed and Jaime shrugged. He was clever to think of the worst and hope for the best and I appreciated who he was as a man for checking-in on me.</p>
<p>Truly, if the stars hadn’t aligned like they had with Daenerys, I would probably be feeling like utter shit.</p>
<p>“What if I told you that I went to the restaurant I proposed to Lynesse at last night, met a beautiful, smart, funny woman, and took her home?” I asked lightly, taking a long sip of my beer and looking up at the cricket game on one of the old televisions.</p>
<p>“I’d say you had too much to drink last night and imagined it. Look, what happened with Lynesse was terrible and I’m here for you…”</p>
<p>“Jaime, it’s true.”  </p>
<p>I watched Jaime consider it out of the corner of his eye.</p>
<p>“You really don’t think I could manage something like that?” I was a bit hurt. Even though I am a few years older than him, I’ve never had a problem attracting woman. It was the getting them to stick around part…</p>
<p>“Mate, of course I do. I just figured you weren’t ready for that.” Jaime questioned further and it was the first time I thought about it.</p>
<p>When Daenerys had sat down across from me, everything else had left my mind. I didn’t have plans or an expectation, just a driving thought that I needed to take that chance. But now in the sober light of day, it was a fair question.</p>
<p>“I’m probably not,” I admitted, “But this girl, Jaime, she’s incredible”.</p>
<p>My friend sighed, “Is she? I want you to be happy and a distraction is great but is she worthy of you? Sorry, Jorah, but you haven’t always had the best taste in the long run.”</p>
<p>Jaime had never once liked Lynesse, or some of the other women I had been with, and each and every time he turned out to be right, “When she’s ready and I’m ready, I want you to meet her. And I promise I will listen to you this time.”</p>
<p>The second I said the words I wasn’t sure if I could keep them. I felt that even if Jaime instantly disliked Daenerys, I wouldn’t want to let her go. It was hard to put my finger on, but things with her were easy and beautiful and happy and I had only spent one night with her. She had allowed me to break free of some of my insecurities in such a short amount of time. I knew that if I hadn’t spent that time with her, I certainly wouldn’t have gone back into my dark room today. That had to mean something, even if it meant we were only destined to be friends. But I wanted her in my life.</p>
<p>“Alright, I’ll hold you to that. Now, let me tell you about my night.” Jaime smirked and I ordered another round. Something told me we were both going to need it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Rules of Engagement</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Daenerys:</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>‘The Cakeleesi is  no ‘baker of grains’, she’s a fraud.’</b>
</p>
<p>I felt my mouth go dry at the title of the article. I could see the Bite King’s smug face staring back at me, his blue eyes as cold as ice.</p>
<p>We had gone to cookery school together at the Children of the Black Forrest, the most prestigious school that was worthy of only the finest bakers. Their courses were harder to enrol onto than getting into Cambridge and Oxford University combined. They took only a handful of students each year.</p>
<p>The Bite King and I battled it out against hundreds of other wannabe bakers and earned our place at the school through hard work and skill, but that was where any similarities between us ended.</p>
<p>While I was open and friendly, the Bite King was cold and dismissive to everyone, even our teachers who were considered the finest bakers that the mainland had to offer. He’d earned his nickname for being rude and downright nasty to anyone who dared approach him, even more so when anyone called him by his real name - Nigel.</p>
<p>He was trying to build a reputation as a cool, calm, and cold man, but all of that would be blown out the water if anyone knew what his real name was. No one ever in the history of the world would ever be afraid of a man called Nigel.</p>
<p>All through our time at the cookery school, I called him Nigel in an effort to get a rise out of him and each time he pinned me with those cold blue eyes of his, I could tell that I was getting under his skin and I’ll never forget his parting words on the day we both graduated.</p>
<p>“One day I’ll come for you, little girl…”</p>
<p>He was at least a foot taller than me and tried to use his height to intimidate me, but he was wrong if he thought he could scare me. All men were full of bullshit, something that I’d learned at a young age from my experiences with my father and two older brothers.</p>
<p>I’d paid the Bite King’s words no heed until now.</p>
<p>Until now, my books and bakery chain had been significantly more successful than his that I barely saw him as a competitor anymore and I certainly didn’t go slagging him off to the first reporter who paid me any attention. I didn’t need to sink to his level of dirty tactics, but I felt the anger surge through me as I read his bare-faced lies.</p>
<p>
  <i>‘The ‘Cakeleesi’ and I went to the same cookery school and it was clear from the start who was the better baker. She had to rely on using her feminine charms on the teachers and all it took was a pout from her pretty little lips and suddenly all the chefs would be falling over themselves to give her the highest grades.’</i>
</p>
<p>It was bullshit. Absolute bullshit.</p>
<p>I was the only woman at the school, of course I was going to stand out against all of those sweaty, spotty boys, but Nigel was fooling himself if he thought it was my tits that made me stand out. The fact of the matter was that I was a better baker than all of those boys put together and Nigel couldn’t handle that. He couldn’t handle the fact that a small girl from the coast was a better baker than he was.</p>
<p>He had no idea how hard I’d had to work to get where I was now, and I certainly hadn’t slept my way to anything. I worked day and night to open my first shop. I’d nearly run myself into the ground those first few years trying to keep my business afloat. My current success was due to the effort I put in for years and it was only now that I had a few shops and popular cookery books that I didn’t have to worry about whether I would have enough money to pay my mortgage or whether I’d be able to pay my staff on time.</p>
<p>
  <i>’She claims that the ‘dragon roll’ was something she created from scratch when the truth is that she stole the idea from me and got it out onto the market before I could. She’s stealing my ideas and parading them off as her own. She’s a fraud and the time has come for me to make a stand and tell the world the truth. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Everyone thinks she’s a sweet little girl, that butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but the truth is that if you get on the wrong side of her, she’ll burn you where you stand.’</i>
</p>
<p>One thing was for certain, I would never give another fucking interview to ‘In the Mix’ magazine for as long as I lived. How could they get away with printing such utter bullshit?</p>
<p>None of what the Bite King said was true, he was trying to ruin my good name because he was a jealous, prideful man whose ego couldn’t take the fact that a woman was better at something than he was.</p>
<p>Tyrion told me not to react and that we could deal with the situation, but how the hell where we going to deal with it without retaliating in kind?</p>
<p>As much as I hated it, I knew Tyrion was right. He was always much better at dealing with the politics of business than I was, and it was thanks to him that I was making a decent living from my talents. Despite the fact that he drank wine like it was water, he had a solid business head on his shoulders and had smoothed over any issues that I encountered in the industry. I trusted that he was giving me the right advice, but it didn’t stop me from being furious at the article I’d just read.</p>
<p>Missy had finally caught up with me in the newsagents and took the magazine from me, her mouth forming a silent ‘O’ as she read the article.</p>
<p>“Holy shit, Dany, are you going to let him get away with this?”</p>
<p>I shook my head and left the newsagents. </p>
<p>I would deal with the Bite King like I had every other competitor - they would underestimate me, see me as nothing more than a naive little girl…and then I would bring them to their knees, and they would rue the day they ever crossed me.</p>
<hr/>
<p>I’d been so consumed with the article for the entire weekend that thoughts of meeting up with Jorah again never crossed my mind. Days had passed and while Tyrion and I had drawn up our battle plan for dealing with the Bite King, I’d neglected to pay much attention to my phone.</p>
<p>When I finally looked at my phone, my heart sank as I saw no texts from Jorah. All of my attention had been on responding to the furore that the article had generated, and I simply hadn’t realised that I’d failed to send him a message.</p>
<p>How long was it acceptable to keep someone waiting?</p>
<p>Would he think me rude that I hadn’t responded yet or would I look too needy if I sent him a desperate apology for ignoring him?</p>
<p>God, dating was such a chore at times. There were so many unwritten rules and I was getting too old to try to remember the proper etiquette when it came to such things.</p>
<p>Mind made up, I was about to send Jorah a text asking if he wanted to meet for a drink this evening when Tyrion called me back into his office, telling me that he needed to speak to me urgently.</p>
<p>I put my phone down and made my way to his office, closing the door behind me and wondering what else would come barrelling towards us next in this shit-show of a week so far.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <b>Jorah:</b>
</p>
<p>Three days. 72 hours. No matter how I rationed out the time, it felt like an eternity since I had seen Daenerys. When I was distracted hanging out with Jaimie or being able to look at the now dried film negatives of her, time went by a bit faster. But now that I was sitting in my office trying to muddle through the workday, it was torture to be alone with my thoughts.</p>
<p>It also didn’t help that the wrapper from my dragon roll I had picked up from one of her shops that morning was mocking me – sticking up in the bin beside my desk. I will admit I had gone in hopes that I might see her – although I knew now from talking with her that she was so busy thinking up new recipes to be in her stores for any significant amount of time.</p>
<p>Between meetings I grabbed my phone to check for any missed calls or texts but came up empty-handed each time. And when Jaimie texted me asking if I was still on for football practice that night – something I had almost entirely forgotten about until now – I nearly jumped out of my office chair in happiness that was quickly deflated when I saw it was him and not <i>her.</i></p>
<p>At the end of the day, I changed into my football clothes and headed back towards home and the pitch our league met at every Tuesday night to scrimmage. But no matter how much I tried to put thoughts of her to the side and work out my worry and nerves by running up and down the pitch until, even in the crisp night air, a thin sheen of sweat covered my arms, I couldn’t shake my insecurities that I was just a one-time fling for her. Something for her lonely heart on Valentine’s Day – maybe I did the trick for that night, but she had truly woken up and regretted it.</p>
<p><i>No – that can’t be – not after that morning. It was too real.</i> I reasoned with myself and was I brought back to reality as I missed an easy goal. </p>
<p>Jaimie jogged over to me and I felt his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get some water – yeah?”</p>
<p>“I fucked that one up…” I looked over at my friend as we jogged together to the side of the pitch and the bench where we all kept our gym bags and water bottles. I took a long swig from mine and watched Jaimie dig one of his cleated heels into the damp grass.</p>
<p>“Your father on a power trip at work again?” Jaimie questioned. It was a reasonable guess and my old man’s penchant for perfectionism regularly drove me crazy, but thankfully not today.</p>
<p>“It’s Daenerys…” I sighed and wiped some sweat off my brow as I turned to look at the proceedings of the low-stakes game.</p>
<p>“The girl from this weekend?”</p>
<p>“I haven’t heard from her…” </p>
<p>Jaimie smiled and I knew he was good-naturedly judging the single-mindedness of my crush, “And have you called her?”</p>
<p>“Well…no…”</p>
<p>“Texted?”</p>
<p>“Jaimie…”</p>
<p>“Made an announcement over every tube station? Hired a skywriter?” His smile broadened and I shook my head.</p>
<p>“I didn’t want to seem too eager.” I admitted.</p>
<p>“She’s probably pulling her hair out waiting for you to say something. Call her after the game alright? It’s been long enough.”</p>
<p>“What would I do without you?” I set my bottle down and we walked back towards the game, ready to jump back in as a few of our teammates took a break.</p>
<p>“You’d be ruining your chances with this girl – that’s where. Now come on – replace Davos and take goalie.” Jaimie waved me over towards the left goal. I didn’t favour this position, but I hadn’t exactly shown my usual talents at centre today. However, as the group took off towards the opposite side of the pitch, it gave me some time to think about reaching out to Daenerys.</p>
<p>I felt simultaneously guilty that I hadn’t made the first move to reach out to this incredible woman who now seemed to have a permanent space to occupy in my brain, and hopeful that I would soon see her again.</p>
<p>
  <i>“Hey – incoming!”</i>
</p>
<p>I crouched as I saw someone break away from the pack with the ball, heading directly for me. I tried my best to guess their course, saw the ball connect with their foot and I dove with my hands out, fingers stretched to block it.</p>
<p>I felt the air of the ball rush past me, heard the sound of it hitting the net behind me and then a sharp, searing pain move from my shoulder through my arm as I hit the ground. </p>
<p>
  <i>“Jorah – you alright mate?”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“I think he’s hurt…”</i>
</p>
<p>I heard the voices of Jaimie and my friends, but they seemed a bit far off. I tried to move and winced and felt something warm on my temple. It could only be blood.</p>
<p>I opened my eyes fully to see the circle of my teammates around me, offering their hands.</p>
<p>“I’m alright – just a scrape…” I promised, but I still had trouble getting to my knees with the support of my left side. That’s when I knew my wrist was sprained badly – if not entirely broken. </p>
<p>“Doesn’t look like just a scrape…” Davos said, kicking the rock away that I had landed on and cut open the side of my head. It didn’t feel too deep to be immediately worrisome, but it still stung.</p>
<p>“Let’s call it quits for the day. I’m going to take him to hospital.” Jaimie said, fully helping me to my feet and grabbing my bag. We got into a cab and headed for the nearest A&amp;E, with me feeling like an overgrown child who should have known better than to attempt something like that.</p>
<p>And I certainly paid for my irrational choice. By the time we checked in and I was examined, I was left with a sprained wrist, four stitches on the side of my head, a large scrape up the side of my shin that was doused in peroxide, and a bruised ego. </p>
<p>“You are a shit goalie, you know.” Jaimie patted me on the back as we walked out of the hospital with my wrist wrapped and gauze taped garishly to the side of my head. I was sure I looked a mess, “Let’s get a drink.”</p>
<p>I nodded. I could definitely use one after the evening I had, but then I suddenly remembered that my plan to call Daenerys had fallen through with the chaos of everything. </p>
<p>“One second – I need to call Daenerys…” I rummaged with my only good hand through my gym bag and found my mobile, but it was completely dead, “Fuck…”. I held it up to show Jaimie and he urged me along anyway.</p>
<p>“You’ve already kept her waiting – what is a few more hours? Let’s get a few pints and you can call her in the morning.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. A Hard Day's Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Daenerys:</b>
</p>
<p>After finishing up yet another meeting with Tyrion about the whole Bite King debacle, I managed to drag myself home for a long, hot bath as I tried to soothe the anger and tension from my wearied bones.</p>
<p>After lighting candles and pouring myself a large glass of white wine, I soaked in the tub and decided that I would see if Jorah wanted to head out for a drink with me. Sure, I’d left it a few days, but what we’d shared at the weekend had been special and not just some one-night thing.</p>
<p>No, one-night things didn’t also have a repeat performance the next morning…</p>
<p>Allowing the warm water to cover most of my body, I sent Jorah a text message, expecting him to reply within a matter of minutes. The way that we parted the morning after our tryst made it obvious that he wanted to see me again.</p>
<p>After thirty minutes of laying in the water, it began to get cold, but I could feel my temper ignite at the fact that I had not yet heard the tell-tale ‘ding’ of a message coming through to my phone.</p>
<p>I gulped down the rest of my glass of wine before drying myself off with a towel, slipping into something slightly more comfortable yet wanton and pouring myself another glass of wine.</p>
<p>I waited and waited, all the while gulping down more of the chilled Chilean chardonnay and feeling my hackles rise that after sending three text messages, Jorah had failed to reply to any of them and so I called him, my fury boiling over when it went straight to voicemail.</p>
<p>Was this his way of punishing me for not texting or calling sooner? Were we really going to do the whole stupid teenager routine of playing hard to get? I didn’t have time for any of that shit and a cruel part of my brain smirked that Jorah was way too old to be playing games like that anyway. It was unbecoming of a man his age.</p>
<p>I’d drunk most of the bottle of wine before I realised it and maybe it was the reason for the rash decision I made. I’d had a gutful of trying to deal with the whole Bite King saga and being ignored by a man who seemed so keen only days ago was the final blow to my already fragile ego. Mind made up and fuelled by alcohol, I grabbed my keys and phone and stormed from my apartment, determined to get some answers from him.</p>
<p>The cold February air did little to cool my anger as I stomped from the Underground station and towards Jorah’s apartment building. I had no idea what I’d do when I got there but tearing a strip off of Jorah was top of my list.</p>
<p>My face must have registered my anger as the woman I passed just leaving Jorah’s building gave me a wide berth as she held the door open for me. I tried Jorah’s phone one last time before stalking towards his front door.</p>
<p>I didn’t care what time of night it was or whether my banging was disturbing Jorah’s neighbours. I didn’t give a rat’s arse about anything other than having it out with the man who thought he could drop me at a moment’s notice. He’d woken the dragon inside of me…</p>
<p>After the third thump on his door, I finally heard movement and steeled myself for the moment a barely dressed Jorah opened the door only for a naked woman to appear behind him, beckoning him back to his bedroom to have his way with her once more.</p>
<p>I was furious, ready to shout at him, but I felt the words die in my throat as I looked at him.</p>
<p>“What the hell happened to you?” I asked, taking in his appearance. He was standing in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and his hair had the rumpled look of someone who had just been woken from a deep sleep. </p>
<p>It was then that I saw the dressing on his head and his wrist in a brace. He looked at me with eyes clouded partly with sleep and partly with whatever strong painkillers the hospital had obviously given him.</p>
<p>I moved him out of the way easily and made my way inside his apartment, placing a tender hand on the undamaged side of his face.</p>
<p>“Did someone hurt you?” I asked.</p>
<p>He looked at me for a number of moments, trying to clear his head.</p>
<p>“Jaime…” he began before trailing off. “Football practice…I had a bit of an accident.”</p>
<p>He’d had quite a lot of an accident judging by the looking of him. What was it with men and their penchant for playing such brutal sports?</p>
<p>I guided him down to the sofa, relieved when he sagged back into it as I filled a glass with water before bringing it back over to him. It was then that I spied a note written on the kitchen side:</p>
<p>
  <i>Get a good night’s kip and don’t forget to call that girl you like in the morning. She probably likes you as much as you like her, so stop fucking around and just call her, ok?</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Jaime.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>P.S. I put your phone on charge before I left.</i>
</p>
<p>I suddenly felt guilty for thinking the worst of Jorah. No wonder he hadn’t answered any of my texts or calls.</p>
<p>I handed him the glass of water and watched as he drank three-quarters of it before putting it back on the coffee table with a shaky hand.</p>
<p>He peered at me through half-closed eyes.</p>
<p>“Daenerys? How did you get here?”</p>
<p>I could see by the dilation of his pupils that although he was awake, he wasn’t fully with it and he looked so cute and dishevelled that any remaining anger I had drained away quickly as I looked at him.</p>
<p>“Rough night, huh?” I said as I sat next to him on the sofa.</p>
<p>He gave me a shaky smile of the heavily medicated kind as he looked at me.</p>
<p>“I need to tell you something,” he said, his words slightly slurred. </p>
<p>“What’s that?” I asked him sweetly. God, he was adorable with his defences down. I wanted to wrap him up in a blanket and take care of him in his addled state and I hadn’t felt that way since…</p>
<p>“I like you,” he said with a sloppy grin before trying to pull himself up from the sofa and failing miserably. “I mean, I <i>really</i> like you…like…a lot.”</p>
<p>“You do, huh?”</p>
<p>“I have a shitty record with women and I always end up fucking it up…but I don’t want to fuck it up with you, Daenerys.”</p>
<p>I felt my heart melt at his words, as slurred as they were as he looked at me with something similar to adoration. I’d only spent one night with him, but I could easily spend many more with him given half the chance.</p>
<p>I got up from the sofa and held out a hand to him, encouraging him to take it, which he did so at the third attempt of reaching out to it.</p>
<p>“Where are we going?” He asked as I wrapped an arm around his back and guided him to the bedroom.</p>
<p>“I’m taking you to bed,” I told him, shocked when I saw the salacious grin on his face and the wiggle of his eyebrows.</p>
<p>“I’m not sure I can…uh…” he stuttered as he frowned.</p>
<p>He could barely keep his eyes open, let alone do anything more strenuous than that and so I guided him down to the pillows and pulled the duvet over him before stripping down to my underwear and joining him as his uninjured arm reached out to pull me closer.</p>
<p>“I like you, Daenerys,” he whispered, his eyes already closed and a smile on his face.</p>
<p>“I like you too,” I replied as I placed a kiss on the side of his head and snuggled into his chest.</p>
<p>I liked him a lot.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <b>Jorah</b>
</p>
<p>“Oh fuck…” I groaned when my eyes opened and all I felt was searing pain in various parts of my body. I reached up to the worst offender, my head, and felt the taped down gauze that covered the stitches across my temple. <i>Yes, apparently yesterday really did happen.</i></p>
<p>I remembered the accident and the agonising hours spent in hospital – more so because of the wait than anything - and not being able to get in touch with Daenerys because my bloody phone had died. And then I remembered having a pint at the pub with Jaimie before stopping and remembering I had an entire handful of painkillers the doctor had prescribed and that I shouldn’t be drinking anything other than water. </p>
<p>And then I remembered <i>her</i> – flashes of her impossibly blonde hair and snippets of her calming voice from last night. Had I dreamed that? I couldn’t piece it together – most likely because of all of the medication I had been under.</p>
<p>I turned to reach for my phone to call her and let her know what happened and when I did, wincing as I accidently put too much weight on my sprained wrist, I saw her. Alive and ethereal and asleep and naked in my bed. Daenerys. </p>
<p>So, she really had been there. But what happened after she entered my flat I couldn’t for the life of me remember and that made me nervous.  </p>
<p>Thankfully my head wasn’t under the fog of another substance this morning, even though it hurt like hell, and I carefully pulled the covers over her beautiful form and slipped out of bed, not wanting to disturb her.</p>
<p>I grabbed my phone and headed into the kitchen to start some coffee. As I unlocked the screen of the device, my heart sank. I felt like I was in a funhouse full of mirrors – not knowing which way was up or down with this day. My phone told me it was after 9 in the morning and I was late for work, as the texts and calls from my colleagues and one stern email from my father told me. I was always punctual, so their concern was valid, but after yesterday I just didn’t want to deal with it all crashing down on me so suddenly. I had so many other things on my mind.</p>
<p>Like the angel sleeping in my bed. Did she have appointments? Was she late for something? And worse – would she be angry when she woke up and remembered whatever happened last night? Had I said or done something stupid in my inebriated state? <i>Fuck.</i></p>
<p>I saw the bottles of painkillers sitting on the counter next to the note Jaime left for me and I ignored them for the moment. I would soldier through the pain if it meant I could remember what was happening.</p>
<p>But before the rest of the world could be dealt with, I needed some coffee. I brewed a small pot and poured two giant, steaming mugs – one for me and one for her – and walked back to my bedroom. </p>
<p>She was still asleep when I entered the room, but when she felt the bed shift as I got back into it, I saw her eyes flutter as she entered the space between deep sleep and the calm of a quiet morning.</p>
<p>“I come bearing caffeine…” I whispered softly, leaning closer to her, using my voice to coax her awake. I didn’t want to startle her, but in case she did have somewhere to be, she should be aware of the time. I nearly planted a kiss on her forehead, but drew myself back, wondering if that was far too sappy and forward, considering I didn’t know what terms we were on.</p>
<p>“Oh…good morning Jorah…” she stretched and slowly sat up in bed, thankfully taking the second warm mug in her hands and I took her reaction as a positive sign. I could more than get used to waking up to this sight every morning – her bare shoulders and cleavage just grazed by the comforter I had tucked around her. </p>
<p>“I don’t want to alarm you but it’s after nine…I don’t know if you have anywhere to be, but I can call you a cab…” I changed my position a bit to appease my whining wrist.</p>
<p>“No – I’m fine. I have a few work things I need to take care of, but that can wait. Do you have to go?” Her eyes were finally awake now and bright as she looked up at me.</p>
<p>“No…I’m taking the day off.” I replied. No one would care but my father and a few quick emails would set it all right – I was, after all, a physical wreck.</p>
<p>“As you should – it seems you had a rough night…”</p>
<p>The genuine concern on her face melted me as I saw her eyes dart to my head and then to my wrist and to the various other scrapes over my body. But I also saw them linger over my chest where I knew I didn’t have any recent scars – and that look buoyed me.</p>
<p>“Yes – about last night – I have to ask since I don’t remember a thing. I don’t know how you got here and if…” I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I didn’t want to think I could be such a cad, but she was beautiful and if I was out of it…</p>
<p>She laughed and placed her hand on mine, “Don’t worry one bit. I had come over here in a slightly wine-induced rage ready to yell at you for not talking to me and when you answered the door I saw you were hurt, and I felt like an arse when I saw the note Jaime left you and realized your phone was dead. I took you straight to bed.”</p>
<p>“To sleep?”</p>
<p>“To sleep.” She promised and I sighed in relief, “And I didn’t say anything embarrassing?”</p>
<p>I saw her contemplate something for a moment and then her lips curled up in a smile, “You told me you liked me. Really liked me. Many times.”</p>
<p>I could feel my face grow hot. Of course, I did. Of course, I played my hand when we had only spent one night together previous. <i>Oh God….</i> “I’m sorry if it made you feel uncomfortable and I won’t fully blame the medical cocktail I was on. Because it’s true.”</p>
<p>“I wish you were able to remember that I said it right back to you. I <i>really</i> like you too Jorah.” </p>
<p>Even though my body felt ridiculously old and silly for having gotten myself into such a stupid football accident, my heart felt years younger – like falling in love for the first time. I would need to watch myself as I could see myself falling so fast for her. I already was. But at least she felt the same and that was a start. </p>
<p>“Well…” I looked her over, “Since I clearly missed out on spending time with you last night, how would you feel about having a lie in with me this morning until you need to get to your work?” </p>
<p>She set her coffee mug down on my nightstand and sunk back down under the covers, pulling me with her and laughing as she did it, “I’d like that very much.”</p>
<p>“I think there is quite a bit we need to catch up on since we last saw one another.” I wanted to know so much. And I wanted to tell her so much. I also wanted to show her the negatives from the impromptu photo shoot she was my muse for and let her know that it had reignited my passion for photography in a way nothing has in the past few years. </p>
<p>“Maybe that can all wait until this afternoon?” The look on her face turned positively coquettish and I was a goner.</p>
<p>“Oh? Is there something you had in mind first? Breakfast perhaps?”</p>
<p>“Not breakfast. But I am hungry.”</p>
<p>I could see it in her eyes, and I wanted it too. I moved to kiss her, needing to feel her lips against mine again. It was searing and I pulled her closer, but my battered body rebelled at the movement and I groaned, acutely embarrassed that I wasn’t younger and more resilient.</p>
<p>“Hold on…” she said softly, adjusting her body and slowly pushing me back down on the bed, “Let me have a little more control today…”</p>
<p>She straddled me, pushing the sheets away so the only fabric between us was her underwear and my boxer shorts. Her words said two things that thrilled me – that she wasn’t disappointed that I wasn’t at my best, and that she planned on doing this many more times with me, not just today.</p>
<p>Daenerys was a goddess, and while she certainly took the lead, I made sure than my uninjured hand made her come twice before she sank down on me. Even though having her warmth wrapped around me and the sight of her riding me was nearly more than I could take, I enjoyed even more watching her gasp and undulate as I brought her to her peak with just my fingers against her gorgeous pearl. </p>
<p>But once she started to roll her hips and my own thrusted upwards, seeking the depths of her, I didn’t last long. This time it turned frenzied – with hurried, heated kisses and only the sounds of our breath and skin and wetness before we succumbed to one another. </p>
<p>And then we did it again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Second Date</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Daenerys:</b>
</p>
<p>I checked myself one last time in the mirror, wanting to make sure that my hair and makeup looked perfect. Tonight was the night that Jorah and I would go on our first real date and I couldn’t wait.</p>
<p>Who could have known that a week ago my life would be turned upside-down and that fate would have something so much better than a broken heart waiting in store for me?</p>
<p>If Jon hadn’t dumped me and I hadn’t allowed my anger to get the better of me, I would never have set foot inside that restaurant and crossed paths with Jorah.</p>
<p>It was fate. It had to be.</p>
<p>I suggested a restaurant that was just around the corner from where I lived with a plan to drag Jorah back to mine after the meal and so I walked as fast as my legs would carry me, not caring that the chilly February wind was reddening my cheeks. I didn’t need to worry about the cold, Jorah had lit a fire in my heart that would burn brighter than any flame ever could.</p>
<p>My mouth went dry as I spotted him standing outside the restaurant. I could see underneath his navy overcoat that he wore a tailored suit that clung to him in all the right places. The discolouration on his forehead and the stitches took nothing away from how handsome he looked in the low streetlight. </p>
<p>His eyes widened when he saw me.</p>
<p>“Daenerys, you look…breath-taking,” he said.</p>
<p>Jon never looked at me the way Jorah currently was. He was gazing at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered to him.</p>
<p>I eyed him up and down, liking what I saw.</p>
<p>“You’re looking very handsome yourself,” I told him, finding the way he blushed cute. “How are the war wounds?”</p>
<p>He shrugged and winced slightly.</p>
<p>“All the better for seeing you,” he replied.</p>
<p>Coming from any other man, that line would have sounded incredibly cheesy, but from Jorah… I knew he meant every word he said.</p>
<p>I nodded my thanks as he held the door open and we entered the restaurant and I think I surprised him with the table I had managed to secure. It was a good thing that my best friend ran this place, I never would have got it otherwise.</p>
<p>Ever the gentleman, Jorah pulled out my seat and took my coat before taking his own seat opposite mine. We were in the quietest and most secluded part of the restaurant where I hoped we could repeat the easy conversation of our impromptu dinner date the week before.</p>
<p>“This is quite the place,” Jorah said as his eyes cast around the room.</p>
<p>“I hope you don’t mind Eastern food,” I replied, realising that there was still so much that I had yet to know about this man.</p>
<p>His smile immediately put me at ease.</p>
<p>“I spent some time in the East when I was younger. There so much beauty to capture through the lens, although I probably didn’t do any of the landscapes much justice.”</p>
<p>He was being all self-deprecating again and it made my heart clench painfully for him. His ex-wife sure had done a number on him when it came to his self-confidence.</p>
<p>“Well, I hope you got a taste for the food while you were out there,” I said, trying to move the conversation onto something else.</p>
<p>He grinned in a way that lit his whole face up and it made my insides clench to see the way his features came alive.</p>
<p>“The aesthetics of this place reminds me of a tavern I spent a lot of time in when I was out there.”</p>
<p>I knew exactly what he meant. Missy asked me to help her design the place with an Eastern feel that reminded her so much of her homeland. Although she’d been orphaned and adopted at the age of six, much of her heart was still in the country of her birth and the restaurant was her way of bringing a little bit of that back into her life in England. We spent a long, hot summer back in the place of her birth and I can still remember the sights, sounds and smells as if it were yesterday.</p>
<p>“Can I get you something to drink?” The waiter asked as he approached our table and handed us some menus.</p>
<p>“What do you recommend?” Jorah asked, clearly valuing the man’s opinion.</p>
<p>I was surprised when Jorah nodded his agreement at the choice the waiter had suggested. It was an Eastern liquor famed for its alcoholic potency.</p>
<p>“You game?” He asked me with a grin.</p>
<p>I nodded and grinned straight back at him.</p>
<p>“Sure, why not?”</p>
<p>As the waiter had cleared the plates of our main meal I realised that almost two hours had passed. I found myself being drawn closer to Jorah with each smile he gave me and the way he looked at me, focusing on whatever it was I was saying. It was probably meaningless meanderings, but it looked like he was hanging on my every word.</p>
<p>“Dessert?” A voice asked and I found myself blushing when I realised it was Missy. I’d hoped she would have taken the night off.</p>
<p>Jorah looked at me, not immediately aware that my best friend had come over to ogle him. It suddenly clicked for him when he caught the look I was giving her.</p>
<p>“This is Missy,” I said, trying to hide my face behind my dessert menu. It was better to get this over with quickly. “My best friend.”</p>
<p>His eyes crinkled as he smiled.</p>
<p>“I know, I remember her from the photos you showed me.”</p>
<p>“You must be Jorah,” Missy said, holding her hand out and blushing slightly as Jorah took it and shook it gently.</p>
<p>“So,” he said, smoothing down his white shirt. “What’s the verdict?” He asked hopefully.</p>
<p>I felt my own cheeks flame as Missy looked him up and down like she was appraising a new piece of art for the restaurant.</p>
<p>“She’s spoken about you non-stop,” Missy answered. “And she’s the happiest that I’ve seen her for a long time…so I suppose you have my approval.”</p>
<p>I watched as Jorah let out a deep breath.</p>
<p>“Phew, I’m glad I made the grade,” he said humorously.</p>
<p>Missy’s eyes narrowed in on him and I saw Jorah squirm in his seat.</p>
<p>“She’s had her heart broken before,” Missy said, her tone and voice serious. “Don’t break her heart, Jorah Mormont.”</p>
<p>Rather than look affronted, Jorah appeared relieved and the look on his face was so sincere.</p>
<p>“I never want to break her heart,” Jorah replied as he held out his uninjured hand and took mine gently. “Daenerys is the most amazing, inspiring, enchanting woman I’ve ever met. Anyone who broke her heart is a fool for letting such a beautiful woman slip through their fingers.”</p>
<p>Okay, that made certain areas of my body clench in a good way. I felt like sacking off dessert and dragging him straight back to my place instead.</p>
<p>Missy pursed her lips. “Pretty words, Jorah,” she said. “You better live up to them or I swear I will hunt you down and kill you slowly.”</p>
<p>I smiled as he held up his injured hand in a gesture of surrender.</p>
<p>“I promise,” he replied, looking genuinely unnerved by the way Missy was staring at him.</p>
<p>As quick as a flash, Missy returned to playing host as if the last five minute’s conversation never happened.</p>
<p>“I can recommend the strawberry panna cotta,” Missy suggested. “It’s rich and creamy and perfect for sharing.”</p>
<p>Ever the gentleman, Jorah looked toward me, seeking my approval.</p>
<p>I nodded in agreement, hoping that we’d share much more before the evening was through.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <b>Jorah:</b>
</p>
<p>There was no other way to describe it – I felt absolutely entranced when I saw Daenerys walk towards me with her trench coat fanning out around her from the determination with which she walked towards me – eyes locked on mine.</p>
<p>And I told her so – told her she looked breath-taking – and made a mental note to get a few more dress shirts as I was wearing my best suit and if there were more dates to come as I hoped there would be, I wanted to impress her.</p>
<p>Even though my head had stung and throbbed the entire day from my idiotic accident, the pain vanished when I walked with her inside the romantic little restaurant to sit across from her for the second time in a week, happy that this time had been planned.</p>
<p>Valentine’s Day had turned my world upside-down. After an incredibly trying time with Lynesse, somehow the Gods above were smiling on me by placing Daenerys on my path and I would do anything I could not to mess up the gift given to me.</p>
<p>I watched her eyes brighten as we talked about the restaurant and our respective times spent in the East. Each new conversation with her revealed a new facet I wanted to dive into and explore. And I wanted to share with her the things I hadn’t been able to with Lynesse. The things that meant the world to me, but she couldn’t have cared less about. Daenerys, oppositely, didn’t seem to have one apathetic bone in her body.</p>
<p>I opened my mouth to ask a stream of dozens of questions I had in my head for her, but then stopped myself. Even if I was smitten as a schoolboy, if I rushed things, no matter how much she seemed to feel the same, I could risk ruining it all. So, I just enjoyed the moment.</p>
<p>When she suggested ordering some alcohol, I was relieved. If I said something a bit too mushy later on, I could always blame it on the potency of what was practically lighter fluid. I tried to suppress a cough when the bottle was brought to us with its intricate label. I remembered the stuff well from my travels, but that didn’t make it go down any easier. Daenerys poured us both a small glass of it and after clinking glasses to ourselves and a true second date, we shot the liquor back. Her face and neck flushed beautifully, and I knew the tops of my ears would be red as they always were whenever I drank. </p>
<p>“You are going to make me drink that whole bottle, aren’t you?” I teased her. It wasn’t a very large bottle, but it didn’t have to be to get either of us on our arses.</p>
<p>“I’ll help, of course, but my ulterior motives do require you drink most of it...” the smile on her face warmed me up more quickly than the liquid burning in my stomach and as she hid her flushing cheeks behind the menu, my mind couldn’t help but go straight to what those motives could be, and I let my mind wander to the end of the night.</p>
<p>But when the attentive waiter came to take our order, I snapped back to reality and let Daenerys order a few of her favourite dishes so that we could share, and I could try some of everything she liked. It all sounded delicious anyway. And I wouldn’t have cared if we were eating a greasy chippy or caviar because all dinner really meant was spending more time with her.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“You can’t go back to playing Jorah...” Daenerys looked at me as if I had sprouted another head when I mentioned my league was having a game the following weekend and that she was invited to watch. My reasons for asking were threefold – I was getting slightly inebriated from the liquor, I wanted to impress her and make up for my fumbling that got me hurt on the field in the first place, and I wanted Jaime to meet her. I wanted him to see with his own eyes that she was nothing like Lynesse and that I wasn’t diving into something too fast and not worth my time, his chief concerns.</p>
<p>He was a good mate, but protective, and I didn’t begrudge him it as I leaned on him heavily through the mess with Lynesse. And I knew that he was Tyrion Lannister’s brother, even if they were slightly estranged from one another. And from what I had gleaned, Tyrion was Daenerys’ agent of sorts. It struck me as pleasantly coincidental that she and I had only been separated by a few degrees from one another for a while now, but never previously met.</p>
<p>“I will – I’m fine...” I promised her even though she gave me a look of concern that turned quickly into a look of fear when we were offered dessert. </p>
<p>Confused, I looked up at the new face that had come to our table and recognized her from the photos that Daenerys had shown me – this was her best friend, and my lovely date was now slinking down behind her menu, clearly embarrassed when she had no need to be. </p>
<p>I reached out and shook Missy’s hand after she introduced herself and then asked her in no uncertain terms what she thought about me. It put a smile on my face to hear that Daenerys had been talking about me.</p>
<p>But then Missy’s tone changed, and she let me know that Daenerys’ heart had been broken and that if I hurt her, I would pay for it.</p>
<p>“I promise.” I told them both, first looking at Missy and desperately trying to convey with my eyes that I wouldn’t dream of hurting the best thing that had ever come into my life. And then I turned my eyes to Daenerys, giving the same silent oath to her. </p>
<p>I understood hurt and pain and even if I could see that Daenerys processed those things differently than I did regarding our recent past relationships, it didn’t make those feelings any less real. And I respected Missy’s concern.</p>
<p>“I can recommend the strawberry panna cotta,” Missy changed her tone from fierce back to that of a polite host. “It’s rich and creamy and perfect for sharing.”</p>
<p>Daenerys agreed that she had room for it and when Missy brought the beautiful light pink sweet to us, I dipped a spoon in it and leaned over the table slightly, offering it to Daenerys.</p>
<p>“Enough about broken hearts...” I told her softly, “This evening has been too perfect for it to end on that note. And I’ll stay at this table with you all night if it means it doesn’t have to end.”</p>
<p>I watched her lean forward to meet me halfway and wrap her full lips around the spoon. I watched her eyes flutter closed for a moment as she tasted it, savoured the way her eyelashes brushed the tops of her cheeks. That sight was more delicious than the panna cotta could be – I was sure of that.</p>
<p>And the way her foot caressed my leg under the table had me blushing and signalling for the bill, which Missy brought over with an amused look that told me I wasn’t playing it quite as cool as I had hoped I was. </p>
<p>Daenerys said that her flat wasn’t too far from the restaurant, and as soon as we walked out into the cold night, she took my hand and practically pulled me down the street. I picked up my pace to keep up with her because my mind was in the exact same place as hers. As delectable as that panna cotta was, my craving for dessert hadn’t yet been satiated. </p>
<p>Her lips were on mine the second she unlocked her door, and my body began to rely on the instinctual rhythm we had already started to build with one another. My coat and hers joined one another in a pile on the floor. I moved my hands down her sides and over her delicate curves and to my surprise, she jumped, wrapping her legs around my waist. I held her tightly to me and managed to finally push her door closed as we kissed and laughed and kissed again.</p>
<p>I spun her around to get my bearings in her dark flat. “Tell me how to get to your bed.”</p>
<p>“Down the hallway.” Her kisses were searing. “First door.” Her warmth against my chest was intoxicating. “To the left...”</p>
<p>The darkness proved a challenge, but the bigger distraction came from her breathy, urgent moans against my neck and lips. Somehow, I managed to carry her to her bedroom and laid her gently down on the bed. She propped herself up by the elbows and looked at me, her lips swollen and her hair a bit messy and I swear I’d never seen anyone look so seductive. </p>
<p>“Daenerys...” there were so many ways I wanted to finish my sentence, but they just became jumbled in my head. <i>You are gorgeous. You make me happy. You inspire me. I...</i></p>
<p>“If you don’t get in this bed this minute <i>so help me.</i>” She practically purred it and I didn’t make her wait. How could I?</p>
<p>Her hand found how hard I was for her and mercifully freed me from my suit trousers. I pushed her dress up and pulled her knickers down and as soon as I entered her, I felt the greatest sense of pleasure and a wave of relief – that we were together again in this way. It felt so natural. And it killed any doubts for me that what had happened between us was going to stay as a one-night stand. </p>
<p>I held her close and helped her reach her peak before joining her, both of us breathless and a mess of half-dressed, tangled limbs. And then she pushed her hair back over her shoulder, smiled, and climbed on top of me.</p>
<p>And I don’t think either one of us got more than an hour of sleep.</p>
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